And Death Shall have no Dominion
by fields of lavender
Summary: There are tons of SND stories ranging from ignoring Season 3 altogether to Catherine magically coming back from the dead. But, there is an antidote to opiate overdose and I had always thought that if Vincent had just taken her to a doctor...Well, in this story he does. I borrow heavily from the episodes in Season 3 and so give credit where credit is due. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

The rotors of the helicopter beat the air and the wind produced tossed Vincent's golden mane. "Catherine!" he roared, thinking the helicopter was taking her away and he was too late, again.

"Vincent."

Her soft voice cut through all his grief and all the noise straight to his addled heart. He spun around and caught her as she fell into his arms.

"Catherine," he breathed. Her slight weight felt exquisite in his arms. He looked at her and took in her sweaty hair pushed back from her forehead, the tear stains on her cheeks, her body's quivering and the bloodstains on her gown.

"Vincent," she whispered again, crying quietly. "We loved. There is a child."

Vincent looked down at her, stunned. "Our child?" he asked as she nodded.

"He's beautiful."

Her body sagged a bit more in his arms and her eyes rolled back a bit. She squinted her eyes closed tightly and then opened them determinedly. She looked up into his eyes and spoke haltingly. "'Though lovers be lost...'"

"'Love shall not,'" he said firmly back. Her eyes rolled back again and closed. Her head fell backwards over his arm. "'And death shall have no dominion,'" he whispered.

He pulled her limp body up to his chest and held her tightly. He buried her face in her neck. A sob tore through his throat and he roared again, "Catherine!"

He held her for several minutes, crying into her hair. Then, he came somewhat back to himself and looked around. The helicopter was gone and the night was quiet. He knew he couldn't stay on the rooftop. He couldn't leave her there.

He kept one arm on her back as he reached with the other to pull up his hood. He pulled the side flaps of his cloak around them both. He gathered her body up in his arms and went to the door and carried her down the stairs to the street.

He left the hateful building and went into the night, into the darkened city. He carried her through the unfeeling streets. He encountered few people as he walked, cradling his precious burden, numb. How he managed to get her to her balcony, he did not know. But, at last, he entered her bedroom through the French doors and laid her carefully on her bed.

He smoothed her hair back and sat back on his heels, just looking at her. Even still and lifeless, he was awed by her beauty. But, he remembered, her beauty wasn't merely physical. She was so kind and generous and strong. Her love had opened his world beyond the stony tunnels and chambers beneath the earth. Her love was a strong ray of sunshine warming his face in the darkness. Without her, how could he go on?

He touched her face, smoothed her hair again and ran his hands down her arms. A glimmer of sunlight caught his eye and he turned to the windows and saw the sun beginning to rise. He couldn't stay past dawn, but how could he leave her?

He bent forward and ran his clawed finger over her lips. "As long as I live, you shall live, in me." Feeling a bravery he had never felt while she lived, he leaned closer and pressed his unique mouth to hers and kissed her softly. "Always," he whispered into her mouth and kissed her again.

When he pulled away, he thought he felt a puff of air come from her lips.

"Catherine?" He bent his cheek to her mouth and waited, holding his breath. After interminable seconds, another puff disrupted the whiskers on his cheek.

"Catherine!" He pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her neck and felt her heartbeat, faint, quiet, but steady. He gasped and began to cry in earnest. She was alive! She was barely clinging to live, but she was still alive. He had nearly left her for dead in her cold apartment. But what to do? He couldn't take her Below to Father. The sun was nearly above the buildings across the park and he would be seen. Frantically, he threw the blankets up over her body and added his cloak for good measure.

"Hold on, Catherine. Hold on a little longer." He jumped up and paced the small space between her bed and the French doors. "She needs help, but I cannot get her to Father. An ambulance? But where will I hide when the paramedics arrive?" He clenched his fists. What to do? "Peter!" his mind cried out. Dr. Peter Alcott, the best doctor he knew next to Father and he could bridge the worlds Above and Below.

Vincent stumbled out of Catherine's bedroom and went to her desk. A small Rolodex sat on it near the phone. His great paws fumbled with it, turning to the "A's," to Peter's phone number. Using the claw on his forefinger, he dialed the number marked "home" on the card. He held the phone to his ear awkwardly as it rang and rang. Finally, the phone call was answered and Peter's sleep-roughened voice muttered, "Alcott."

"Peter," Vincent breathed.

"Who is this?"

"It is Vincent."

"Vincent, really?" Peter sounded instantly more awake.

"Peter. I found Catherine last night. I thought..." Vincent stifled a sob. "I thought she was dead."

"Vincent, where are you?"

"I brought her home and kissed her goodbye. She is still breathing."

"Vincent..."

"She's alive, Peter, but I do not know what to do. The sun-"

"Vincent, wrap her up, keep her warm. If her breathing fades, breathe for her. You remember." Vincent nodded. "Talk to her, Vincent. Let her know you haven't given up. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Her apartment?"

"Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, Vincent." Peter hung up the phone.

Vincent carefully replaced the receiver and walked back to Catherine. He climbed on to the other side of the bed and gathered her into his arms. "I'm here, Catherine, I'm here. I won't let you go again." He kept his cheek close to her mouth and nose and rechecked her pulse from time to time.

It had only been ten minutes by the time Peter arrived, but it felt much longer to Vincent. He heard the elevator doors and a key turning the lock. Instinct made him freeze and turn his head, looking for a place to hide, but he knew it could only be Peter and he knew he couldn't leave Catherine.

Peter rushed in the door and came quickly into Catherine's bedroom. He stopped short, looking at the baby he had brought into the world looking so death-like in Vincent's arms. "What happened?" he asked shortly, setting his doctor's bag down by the bed and reaching for Catherine's wrist.

"I'm not sure. I had felt nothing of her for months and then tonight, there was something."

"Your bond?" Peter asked looking at her arm and noting the needle marks in the crooks of her elbows and the fresher mark on her upper arm.

"Similar, but not the same. I found her on the roof of a building in downtown. Or, she found me. She told me that we had loved and that there was a child. Then, she collapsed in my arms. I brought her here. When I found I must leave, I noticed she was still breathing."

"Her pulse is faint and so is her breathing. It seems like she recently gave birth. I wonder if she has retained the placenta. But, that doesn't account for all of this." Peter rubbed his forehead. "Where is the baby, Vincent?"

"I do not know."

Peter pulled supplies from his bag and began to ready an intravenous line. He tied a tourniquet around Catherine's upper arm. "I wonder if whoever took her only kept her for the baby. Didn't you nearly rescue her a few months ago?"

"Yes, she was tapping on the pipes. Old Sam intercepted the message and I found her. There were too many for me. Perhaps I should have waited for help or contacted the police. They took her to another place and I couldn't find her again until tonight."

Peter placed the needle into her vein. Vincent handed him the tubing to connect to it. "Thank-you, Vincent. Perhaps her kidnappers inferred that you were connected to her, that you were the father of her child and decided they wanted it."

"Then after the child was born, they would have..."  
"Disposed of her. Yes. If it were me, I'd use morphine." Peter fumbled in his bag, looking for a bottle of medicine. "Aha." He pulled the bottle out and withdrew a dose from it with a syringe.

"What is that?" Vincent asked as Peter injected it into her IV line.

"Narcan. It is an antidote for opiates." Peter placed the empty syringe and medicine bottle on the bedside table and bent to recheck Catherine's pulse. "A bit stronger, but she needs more than I can do here. We need to get her to a hospital. She needs blood, antibiotics, maybe ventilation."

"Peter, call an ambulance. Save her. She is my life."

"We should try to keep this anonymous. If her kidnappers find she is still alive..."

"They will come looking for her."

"I'll call a private service rather than 911. I'll admit her to me, keep her in a private room. Maybe I can arrange for a Helper or even Mary to help care for her. Where can you go while the ambulance takes her?"

"I can hide in her kitchen or the balcony. I can wait until night and go back Below."

"All right. I'll call now. Stay close to her."

Vincent cuddled Catherine close again and kissed her forehead. She felt a bit warmer and her breath was stronger on his face, but it still seemed so faint. Her cheeks were pale. Vincent could hear Peter in the other room, speaking to the ambulance service.

"No, keep it quiet. I don't know who to trust with this yet, but she needs medical attention and quickly."

Peter returned to the bedroom. "They should be here in 10-15 minutes, depending on traffic. It is still early, but rush hour seems to never end in this part of town. How is she?"

"She is so pale and still."

"She is strong, Vincent, and she has a lot to live for – you and the baby."

"I haven't even really thought of the child. It is so much."

"You'll have time to absorb it. I don't want you to panic while you're stuck here. Do you want me to call with updates?"

"I'm not sure."

"I think I'll call a helper to get a message to Jacob."

"All right." Peter returned to the other room and picked up the phone. Vincent held Catherine close again and kissed her forehead and hair over and over.

"I love you, Catherine. I love you. I'll never let you go again. I know now. I know what you meant. I'll never be apart from you again." He kissed her head again and stroked her shoulder and arm and smoothed her hair. He trailed his fingers back to her neck and felt her pulse. It seemed stronger. The medicine Peter had injected her with seemed to help. Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered open. She sucked in a big breath of air as Vincent gasped. "Peter!"

Peter dropped the phone and ran to the bedroom and saw Catherine in Vincent's arms with her eyes open, looking up at him.

"Vincent," she whispered.

"You are going to be fine, Catherine." Vincent's tears began to fall again. "I love you. Peter is here. He's going to get you to a hospital. When you are well enough, I'll take you Below."

"Cathy, it is okay, honey. Everything is going to be okay." There was a loud knock at the door.

"I must go."

"Vincent," she whispered again. "He's beautiful."

"Of course, he is. You will be well and we will find him." Vincent slipped from the bed and took up his cloak. He kissed Catherine's forehead again and went to the kitchen. Catherine's eyes closed again and she seemed to be sleeping.

Peter followed Vincent to the other room and made sure he was well-concealed in the kitchen before he opened the door. Three paramedics entered the apartment rolling a stretcher. "Where is she, doctor?"

"In here," Peter answered. As they moved to the bedroom, Vincent opened the kitchen door a crack and watched them work on Catherine. Confident that she was in good hands, Vincent let the door close and sank to the floor and began to cry silently. She was found. She was alive. They would be well.


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent spent the day in Catherine's apartment. He found books, letters and mementos he had given her. He spent some time reading through them, remembering the giving of each. It was nice, being among her things. He had come to her balcony when she was missing, hoping against hope she would miraculously return, but she never did. He hadn't come inside. Now he knew that she could not come here again, that if she was found to be alive, her kidnappers would find her and kill her. Now he knew the extent of her love for him. They had a child and after he was found and his mother recovered, all three would disappear Below and live a peaceful life.

He found a box in the back of her closet, full of things she must have saved beginning in her childhood. He packed his books and things in there. He also placed photographs of her parents, some clothing and a few knick knacks she had around the apartment. He wanted her to have familiar things around her. He planned to begin sorting through his chamber to make room for her as soon as it became dark.

Peter had called and said that they had arrived in the hospital. Catherine was going to require surgery – she had retained the placenta – and a course of antibiotics, but he thought she would recover. When she was stable enough, he would find a way for her to come Below and Father could continue her care.

Once Vincent had heard from Peter and completed his packing, he still had a lot of time on his hands to brood. He sat on the floor in front of the French doors and watched the sun move across the sky. He wondered what had happened to the Bond he and Catherine had once shared and what had happened last night to allow him to find her at last.

"The child had been born," he thought. His mind went back to his last conversation with Catherine. He was still weak from that horrible sickness and was feeling sorry for himself because their Bond had been broken. Catherine had entered his chamber with a brightness in her eyes that he, in his selfishness, did not recognize. She must have known about the child and had come to tell him. But even then, she had soothed and comforted him. What had she said?

"'Maybe the gift will return to you in a different form; something you had never even dreamed of.'"

He certainly had never even dreamed of a child. Was what he had felt last night the child? He closed his eyes and quieted his mind. He was still reeling from the supposed death and resurrection of Catherine in his arms; the gleeful joy that ran through him, knowing she was alive and safe. He tried to put it all out of his head, to find and concentrate on the heartbeat he had heard in his chamber last night. He slowed his breathing and sat perfectly still, cross-legged on the floor of Catherine's bedroom, concentrating, remembering the feeling that had suffused him last night.

He felt it, once, twice, three times – like Catherine's heartbeat, but faster. He furrowed his brow, trying to determine where it was coming from, when he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door. In a trice, he was up and out the doors on to the balcony. He concealed himself as best he could in the corner, where he had had the presence of mind to place the box he intended to take to the tunnels. It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set. Catherine's balcony faced east and there were already shadows to hide himself. He might just have to chance escape before it was fully dark, depending on who was entering.

A short, stout Mexican-American woman entered the door, jangling the keys. "Why do they want me to clean? No one is here, but every week, go clean Chandler apartment. Good money, no work, so I clean," she muttered to herself. Vincent watched stealthily from the shadows of the balcony, praying she would not go outside.

The woman ran a dust cloth over Catherine's bookshelves, desk and mantlepiece. She went next to the kitchen and wiped down the clean counters and checked the appliances. The refrigerator was empty, but it was still cold. Oh, she remembered the first time she had cleaned this place. "The stink of the kitchen!" she exclaimed out loud, crossing herself. "Madre de Dios!"

Vincent watched as the woman crossed the living room and entered Catherine's bedroom. He realized just a moment before she saw it what he had forgotten. The bed was rumpled from Catherine and from him lying on it. And on the side where he had laid her was a very large bloodstain.

"Madre de Dios!" the woman screamed and ran from the room. Vincent decided to risk leaving early as she went to the phone and dialed 911. He could hear her, speaking a frantic mixture of English and Spanish, trying to explain what had happened. In the end, the police came, and the hope of secrecy was dashed. There was finally a break in the Chandler case.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Joe Maxwell got off the elevator on Catherine's floor and clipped an ID badge to the collar of his suit. His overcoat flopped back over it. He turned the corner to her apartment and was stopped by an officer.

"ID?"

Joe flipped his coat collar back, revealing the badge. "Joe Maxwell, DA's office."

"Go ahead, sir."

Joe bent under the police tape and entered the apartment. There were police officers everywhere. Some were dusting for fingerprints, others were taking photographs. There were men taking photographs and someone was vacuuming the carpet. Joe walked over to the doorway of Catherine's bedroom and stopped short at sight of the large bloodstain on the coverlet.

"Oh, Cathy," he whispered.

"Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah?" Joe turned to the officer who had called his name. It was Greg Hughes. Joe and Cathy had worked with him, both professionally and personally for the last two years. Joe was sure glad he had caught this case.

"Hey, Joe. Jesus, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been involved with this from the beginning?"

"Not officially. I'm here as a friend."

"Good. I could use your opinion. It looks like the place had been gone through."

"What do you mean?"

"Like things are missing. Look over here." Greg led Joe to a curio cabinet that stood in the living room. A collection of glass eggs were displayed on one of the shelves. One was obviously missing.

"Huh," Joe said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Books off the shelves. Clothes from the closet. It looks like there was a box on the floor of the closet that has been removed. Do you know of anyone who has been in here?"

"I know the executor of her estate hired a cleaning lady. Otherwise, no one I know of. You talk to her?"

"Yeah, she called it in."

"You're getting fingerprints?"

"From all over. We're testing everything – doorknobs, chairs, tables, the phone."

"Good. Let me know what you find out."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks." Joe moved back to the bedroom to where the CSI guys were taking samples of the bloodstain. "What do you think?"

"Its blood."

"Thanks." Joe rolled his eyes. "Lab guys. Can't live with 'em..." he thought.

"Won't know anything 'til I get this back to the lab."

"Just the bed? Anything else?"

"Yeah. Found a used syringe and a bottle on the bedside table. Already bagged them. We'll let you know."

"What was the bottle?" Joe asked.

"Label said, 'Narcan,' but we'll test it for sure."

"You sending everything to Hughes?"

"He's the detective who caught the case right?"

"Okay, okay. I just don't want anything to slip through the cracks. This is the first break this case has had in six months. She's a friend."

The CSI looked up at Joe critically. "Yeah, right. Look, all due respect, I do every job the same, whether it is some homeless drug addict or the Queen of England, right?"

"Good, good. I'll get out of your way." Joe took one last look at the bed and the bloodstain and turned away. "Come on, Radcliffe. Tell me where you are. Let me bring you home."

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Father walked stiffly down the hallway to Vincent's chamber.

"Vincent?" he called.

Vincent was sitting at his table, staring blankly ahead, thinking. He didn't turn at Father's voice. "I found Catherine last night."

"I know. I received a note from Peter. He said she was doing as well as could be expected. She is still unconscious."

"I thought she had died."

"I can imagine. Peter said her pulse was very faint when he arrived. Morphine over-doses can be tricky. In addition to the blood loss..."

"I nearly left her there, alone," Vincent interrupted.

"Vincent, don't."

"Don't what, Father?" Vincent slammed his fist on the table and jumped up. "I've searched for her for months. Months! And after I find her, I leave her for dead?"

"But you didn't. I've seen people in a morphine stupor. They appear lifeless."

"But I, of all people, should have known!"

"You did, Vincent, when it counted." Father stumbled over to where Vincent stood and took his arm. "You found her. If you hadn't, she'd be dead and cold alone, in that terrible place. You saved her."

Vincent covered his face with his hands. "I was trapped in her apartment, all day. I was nearly caught. A cleaning woman came in and found the bloodstain. I left while it was still daylight when she called the police. I don't think I was seen."

Vincent expected a lecture, but was surprised by Father's words. "You did the right thing, leaving when you did. I'm sure the police went over that apartment with a fine-tooth comb. You couldn't have stayed. They would have found you for sure."

"I know. I..."

"You must be exhausted. You should sleep. I just came to tell you the latest on Catherine and to make sure you slept. Peter admitted her as 'Jane Doe.' Hopefully, her admission won't be tied to the investigation at her apartment. As soon as she is stable, we will bring her Below. Peter and I have been mulling over possibilities." Father took his son's arm and gently guided him to the bed. Vincent sat down heavily. "I know you haven't slept well in months."

"I am tired."

"Catherine will have a long recovery and will need you to be strong."

"Yes."

"Lie down, Vincent. All will be well."

"All right, Father. All right."

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Father made his way painstakingly to the entrance nearest the hospital where Catherine was lying. Peter walked slowly to meet him.

"How is she?" Father asked.

"Ah, Jacob." Peter rubbed his hands over his face and scratched his head. "I think she's through the worst of it. She made it through the surgery, but I had to give her 6 units of blood and she's septic."

"Did you have to intubate?"

"Not yet, but she hasn't regained consciousness."

"Vincent said she spoke to him for a moment."

"Yes, but since then, nothing."

"Who is watching her?"

"Remember Chelsea?"

"Ah, yes."

Chelsea had come to the tunnels as a young girl, abandoned on the streets 10 years ago. Vincent had actually found her and brought her Below. She returned Above when she turned eighteen and entered a nursing trade school. She was now working for the hospital Peter had taken Catherine.

"She has agreed to stay with her, in her room, for the night. She has no other patients. She is to page me with anything."

"You should rest too."

"I know. You know, I had given up. I thought Vincent was crazy to keep searching."

"Me too." The two men stood silently for a few moments.

Father reached out and took Peter's arm. "When she's stable, we will be ready for her. It won't be too far on a stretcher. We'll have replacements set up every so often. The hard part will be getting her here."

"I might use an ambulance, the pretense of transferring her to another facility."

"Does anyone know who she is?"

"Even Chelsea doesn't know her real name. She's just Jane. But I worry. She isn't entirely unknown and if anyone recognizes her..."

"Yes, I know. Well, we are due for some good luck. We just need to hope for the best."

"Right now, that's all we have."

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Catherine lay in a darkened hospital room down the end of a long hallway. Chelsea dozed in the chair by her bed. The monitors gleamed green in the half-light and a steady beeping indicated her heartbeat. The beeping increased slightly in tempo and Catherine's eyes fluttered open. "Vincent?"


	3. Chapter 3

Joe sat at the counter of the diner, stirring his coffee absent-mindedly. Greg Hughes approached him, tossed a file folder on the counter and sat down.

"Coffee?" he said to the server, who poured him a cup. Hughes took up a sugar packet and dumped the contents into his cup and stirred vigorously.

"Morning?" Joe said, raising an eyebrow.

"Joe, you have no idea what kind of mess we've got."

"Okay. Start at the top. Blood?"

"Mostly Cathy's. ME estimates a unit, maybe more."

"What do you mean 'mostly Cathy's?'" Joe asked.

"There were traces of foreign DNA."

"Foreign?"

"Not Cathy's."

"Then whose?"

"Still working on that."

Joe took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay. Fingerprints."

"Tons. Cathy's, of course. The cleaning lady. We took a set off her before we let her go. Some of you." Hughes took a drink of coffee. "We also found some from this doctor, Peter Alcott."

"I know that name."

"You should. Did some digging. He's the executor of Cathy's estate. Her next of kin."

"Well, that makes sense. He probably was checking on the place."

"Yeah. It makes sense on the doorknobs and the phone. But, we also found his on that bottle of Narcan and the syringe."

"What?"

"And that isn't even the weirdest thing." Hughes took another drink of coffee.

"There's another set – from the door to the balcony, on the bed, closet doors, kitchen. Kind of all over."

"Whose are they?" Joe asked.

"Wrong question. Not whose. What's."

"What's?"

"Yeah, lab doesn't think they're human. Definitely don't match anyone in the system."

"Greg. Come on."

"I'm telling you what I know, Joe. Almost as soon as I know it." He indicated the file folder on the counter. "There's you 'unofficial' copy of the results."

"There's got to be more."

"I'm doing my best. But, Joe. I know my limitations."

"Limitations? This is Cathy Chandler!"

"Look, Joe. I know that and I'd do anything for her. But I've got to do it within my scope. I got to take whatever cases get tossed my way. We got lucky that I was up when this call came in." Greg paused and took a toothpick out of the container on the counter by his right hand. "You ever hear of the 210?"

"Special crimes? Yeah, why?"  
"There's this woman, on it. Diana Bennett? You know her?"

Joe shook his head.

"Do you remember the Bessara case last month?"

"Yeah."  
"She was the one who found Hernandez."

"I thought that was the Bureau."

Hughes chewed on the toothpick. "Nope. Bennett. She doesn't like the publicity." He tossed the toothpick on the counter. "Look, Joe. This isn't an ordinary case. It is a missing person, but now there's all this blood. It isn't a homicide, but it could be. There's a lot going on. You need to look at other alternatives. And Bennett. She gets to pick and choose."

"Why?"

"Cause she's good." Greg stood up and drained his coffee cup. "You get a hold of Bennett at the 210. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Greg." Joe picked up the folder and paid for his coffee. He left the diner. He had some favors to call in.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Peter went to the hospital first thing in the morning. Chelsea had reported a quiet night for her patient. She had stirred around 1:00 in the morning, but drifted back off. Her vitals stayed steady and her fever was down. Peter decided to try to wake her up. He had Chelsea stay by the door and entered the room.

Catherine was lying on the bed, tucked under the blankets with monitor wires coming out from under them, attaching her to machines overhead. Her left arm was connected to an IV. Her hair had been brushed, but she still looked pale and disordered. Peter decided she didn't look like herself without her spark.

He crossed over to the bed and pulled out his stethoscope. He listened to her heart and her lungs and then pressed his hands over the lower abdomen. Her belly was still swollen, but firm. Since she had retained the placenta after the delivery of the child, her uterus couldn't contract and she was bleeding out, in addition to the deadly dose of morphine. She was lucky.

Satisfied with her physical condition, Peter sat in the chair by the bed and pushed her hair back.

"Cathy? Cathy, honey? It is time to wake up." He moved his hand to her shoulder and shook her a little. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes." He spoke in a firm, clear voice. He shook her again. "Cathy!"

At this last prodding, Catherine frowned and turned her head away from Peter. He reached for her chin and turned her back. "Cathy? I need you to open your eyes now. Just open up and look at me. That's all I need."

Catherine's frown deepened through all of this and then she sighed. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and then closed again.

"Good, girl. Do it again. Look at me, young lady."

Catherine frowned again and opened her eyes. She looked up at Peter's face for a few brief seconds and then closed them again. "Peter?" she whispered.

"Yes, honey. It's me. How are you feeling?"

"Vincent?" she whispered again.

"Oh, I know you want to see him. I just need you go get a little stronger."

She sighed. "Vincent."

"Soon, sweetie, soon. I'll tell him you asked for him, okay?"

Her eyelids flickered open and then shut. "Kay."

"Okay, Cathy. You get your rest now. I'll check on you in a little while." Peter rose from the chair and prepared to leave the room and give his orders for the day to the nurse waiting outside the door. A soft voice called him back to her side.

"Peter, thanks."

"You're welcome, honey. I'm glad you're back."

Peter turned from the bedside as Catherine drifted back to sleep. He left Chelsea in the room and then went down the hall to the nurse's station. He was writing in Catherine's chart, still marked, "Jane Doe" when two police officers came by.

"Morning," one flashed his badge to the charge nurse. "I'm officer Downey and this officer Sparks. We heard you had a 'Jane Doe' admitted yesterday?"

Peter turned sideways so that his face could not be seen by the officers. He continued to write furiously, hoping to get his orders entered without having to answer too many questions.

Margie, the charge nurse had been around awhile and she knew Dr. Alcott from when he was a resident. She never looked over at him. She merely raised her gaze above her reading glasses and pulled a pen out of her stiff beehive hair-do. "None of my patients are to be disturbed at this time. What is this all about?" She looked back down and marked off an item on the list in front of her.

"We are just checking something out. A bunch of blood was found on a bed in an apartment by the park. We are looking at 'Jane Doe's' to see if she could be who the blood belongs to."

"None of my patients can be disturbed at this time. If anyone has information that may help you, I'll be sure to call. May I have your card?"  
"Nurse, do you have any 'Jane Doe's' or not?" Sparks was young, he didn't like being sent on a wild goose chase and he knew he wasn't getting a straight answer out of Margie.

"I will thank you to lower your voice. This is a hospital. Now, unless you are an admitting physician to this hospital or have a warrant," she lowered her gaze at the two officers. "You will not be laying a hand on any of my charts or disturbing any of my patients."

Downey put his hand on Sparks' arm. "Easy, Sparks. We'll go check the next place and come back. Thanks, ma'am." The two policemen turned and walked down the hallway towards the elevators. Downey appeared to be lecturing Sparks under his breath.

"Wow, Margie. Remind me never to get on your bad side," Peter said, handing her the chart with his orders. She tucked her pen back into her beehive and pushed up her glasses a little.

"You never will, Dr. Alcott. But you might want to re-admit your patient," she said, not looking at him, but scanning the chart for new orders. She began to enter them into the computer on her desk.

"Thanks, Margie," Peter said. "I'm keeping Chelsea on private duty for the rest of today and will probably be bringing in someone else for tonight. Can you spell her for a little while so she can get something to eat?"

"Of course, doctor. I'll attend to it personally."

"You are a peach, Margie. Thanks again," Peter said over his shoulder, heading towards admitting.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Father walked into Vincent's chamber that morning and found his son still in bed, sleeping. He sighed and looked at him. His son. He looked so peaceful and content while asleep. For so long, Vincent had been so worried, so frightened, so angry with himself. No one Below was finding any peace. And, now just as Vincent had finally fallen into a much-needed slumber, Father had to awaken him. "Well, who said life was fair," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Vincent?"

Vincent awoke in an instant and sat up. He looked around quickly and saw Father. "What is it?"

"I received a note from Peter this morning. He gives an update on Catherine's condition. I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible."

"Catherine?"

"Yes."

"Then, it wasn't a dream. It was real?"

"Yes."

Vincent blinked quickly a few times, then swung his legs out of the bed. "Tell me."

Father unfolded the note and as he didn't have his glasses, held it out at arm's length to read it aloud.

"'_Jacob, Catherine had a good, peaceful night. Her fever is lower and her uterus is contracting down quite nicely. She woke up briefly this morning. She recognized me and asked after Vincent. Some police officers came by, asking after any 'Jane Doe's' admitted yesterday. Margie (remember her from residency?) held them off and I've readmitted Catherine under the name 'Caroline Wells.' If I can get her to wake up enough to eat something and if her H&amp;H stays stable, I may be able to transfer her tonight or tomorrow morning. Please prepare as we discussed. I'll send more news when I have it. Peter._"

"What does this mean? What is an H&amp;H? What about her uterus?"

"Vincent, after a woman gives birth and expels the placenta, the uterus contracts in on itself, sealing off all the blood vessels. If that does not happen appropriately, the torn blood vessels continue to bleed. There are several reasons why this can happen, but with Catherine, because she slipped into a coma before she could deliver the afterbirth, her uterus couldn't contract down. Peter took her to surgery and removed the placenta. He had to give her six units of blood. He is monitoring her Hemoglobin and Hematocrit to see if she needs more."

"I see."

"She is also on antibiotics, to fight infection. A retained placenta can be a nasty thing."

"Does it seem that there are any effects from the morphine?"

"She is quite sleepy, but she recognized Peter and remembered you. With time, I'm sure she will be fine."

"And the police?"

"It shouldn't surprise you that they are looking for the source of all that blood. Peter had admitted her as a 'Jane Doe.' He had to change her name."

"Good. Then, it seems that all is going as well as it could."

"Yes. Come, get dressed. We can talk more at breakfast." Father patted Vincent's shoulder and left his chamber. Vincent rose from the bed and began to prepare for the day. Then, he felt it again, that buzzing, beating heart he had heard the night he had found Catherine. It seemed to quicken, intensify and then it went quiet and still. What did it mean? He had much to discuss with Father and he hurried with his dressing.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe stood in the entry way of the building. There were a row of mailboxes, the last in the row hung open on rusty hinges. Next to the mailboxes, near the freight elevator, was an intercom box. Joe pushed the button on the top. He tapped his foot and then pushed the button again.

"Hello?" A woman's voice echoed through the speaker.

"It's Joe Maxwell. We talked this morning?"

No answer. Joe looks around and rubs his forehead. "Hello? Diana? Diana Bennett?"

"I told you I can't do it."

"Look, I have no place else to go. Please? Hello?" He pushes the button again.

"Fifth floor," the voice is resigned.

A loud buzzing sound fills the small entryway as Joe is buzzed in. He climbs on to the freight elevator and rises to the fifth floor. The elevator stops, revealing an angry-looking red-haired woman through the metal gates. She is wearing sweatpants and socks. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Her arms are crossed over her chest. She is definitely angry.

"Where's you get my address?"

"From your watch commander."

"Call in a favor?"

"Yeah. A big one."

"You realize this is completely unfair of you."

"I'm just asking you to take a look at something."

"You are asking me to set aside one case for another. I can't do that."

"Not even for one day? An hour?"

Diana opens the gate on her side. "Let me show you something."

Joe opens the gate on his side and follows her across the room to an over-flowing desk. A wall-sized bulletin board is covered with pictures, newspaper clippings and maps.

"This is where I've been for the last four months. That is Sally Rogers." She gestures to a little girl in the center of the bulletin board. "Ten years old. Grabbed waiting for her mom outside of school." Diana turned and looked at Joe intently. "Every three weeks the guy sends something. A lock of hair. A piece of clothing. A shoe. Yesterday, a package arrived with a small finger inside." Joe looks at the floor. "Lab says she's still alive. What can _I_ do for _you_, Joe Maxwell?"

Joe looks up at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

Diana looks down, awkward. "Sometimes I push too hard."

"No, I was wrong to come here. I'm sorry." He walks back to the elevator and gets on. He closes the safety gate on her side and begins to close the other on his. Diana approaches him.

"So, this woman? Was she important to you?"

Joe leans up against the side of the elevator door. "We worked together, but it was more than that."

"Romantic?"

"No. Just friends. But, I feel like it's my fault."  
"So when she disappeared, you asked to lead the investigation." Joe nods. "Let me guess. The trail went cold, fast. And you blamed yourself. And then you worked harder and harder until all your other work suffered."

"I was suspended."

"And then you began to dream about her and your mind took these illogical leaps. And you followed up absurd leads and intuitions, and pretty soon you couldn't think of anything else." Joe looks at her, stunned. "That's why I only work one case at a time."

"Are they all like that for you?"

"Yep." Diana turns and goes back to her desk.

"Let me ask you something." Joe pushes the gate back open and goes to Diana at her desk. "What do you make of this? A woman is violently kidnapped. Six months later, the only sign of her is a huge bloodstain on her own bed. No one saw her come in or out of that building. Up seventeen flights and down seventeen flights. No witnesses."

"I don't know."

"Yeah, nobody does. And in three weeks, no one is going to care. That is why I came to you." Joe goes back to the elevator and jerks the gates closed. Before he pushes the button to descend to the ground floor he nods towards her bulletin board. "I hope you find that girl." The elevator slowly begins to descend and Diana watches until he is out of sight.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

With Chelsea on duty, Catherine had a quiet night up to now. She had awoken a couple more times that day. She managed to stay awake long enough to sip six spoonfuls of beef broth, but she didn't speak again. Vincent was going insane, Below. He ran to the entrance closest to the hospital and paced there intermittently until Peter took pity on him. He arranged for Vincent to enter Catherine's room just after 2:00 in the morning.

Now, Vincent stood in the shadows near the window of Catherine's hospital room. He counted her heartbeats, beeping out into the night from the monitor above her bed. He counted her breaths. He relished being in the same room with her after so long.

Catherine turned her head to the shadow in the room and opened her eyes. "Vincent?" she whispered.

"Catherine."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're a dream again, aren't you?"

"A dream?"

"Yes." She fluttered her eyes open again. "You're still here."

"Yes."

"Oh, Vincent." She closed her eyes again and tried to reach for him. "I'm so sorry."

He stepped closer and took her hand. "For what?"

At his touch, she opened her eyes again. "You almost feel real," she murmured. "For not telling you. For getting in trouble again. I was trying. Honest."

"I know." Vincent wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake and decided to go along with whatever she was saying.

"I wanted to tell you." She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. His heart rate increased at the feeling.

"I know. Shhh. Just rest now." He brushed her hair off her forehead.

"I wanted to tell you about the baby. I wanted to tell you and then just stay with you forever."

"I know. I know."

"But that stupid book!" She opened her eyes suddenly.

"The book?"

"Yeah." She closed them again. "Joe gave me that book and then I told John. Then, they took me."

"John Moreno? The DA?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Oh, Vincent. This feels so real. Stay with me. Everything is better when you stay with me."

"I'll stay as long as I can. When you're better, we'll never be apart."

"No. She'll be coming in soon. He'll want to do more tests."

"No, Catherine. No more. You're safe. Sleep now."

Catherine opened her eyes and this time, her gaze seemed clearer to him. "Vincent?"

"Yes. I'm here. You're safe. You're safe now. Sleep, my love." Catherine squeezed his hand again, and tears begin to fall from Vincent's eyes. He carefully slid into the bed next to her and held her head against his breast. "Sleep. All will be well."

Catherine nestled up against him and wrapped her arm around his waist and went to sleep. Vincent held her firmly and kissed her hair. He could hardly believe that nearly twenty-four hours ago he thought she had died in his arms. He kissed her head again and thanked whatever God was watching them again and again.

His tears nearly done and Catherine sleeping peacefully at his side, he sees the door open. He freezes on the bed, holding Catherine closer, knowing there is nowhere to run. He doesn't know what to do, but heaves a sigh of relief when he sees that it is only Chelsea.

"Hi, Vincent."

"Chelsea, thank-you so much for what you've done for her."

"It's Catherine, isn't it? I'd do anything. I know how much she means to you. I owe you and Father and everyone a lot."

"This more than repays whatever debt you think you have. We do not think you owe us a thing."

"Thank-you, Vincent." She turns to look out the door. "You'd better go. She is due for meds in about ten minutes."

"Yes. I must go." Vincent slid out of Catherine's arms and approached Chelsea. He gave her a book. "If she awakens or seems uneasy, read some of this to her. It helped the last time she was ill." He gave her a worn copy of Great Expectations. He walked back to Catherine's bed and kissed her brow tenderly.

"All right." She took the book and places it near her chair. "I'll have Dr. Peter send another message to Father for you. I think she's doing well. He may send her Below tomorrow." They walked to the window together. "You need your rest too. If she does go Below, you will have your hands full tending to her."

"I'll try, Chelsea. If she awakes," he paused at a loss for words.

"I'll tell her."

"Good-night." He slipped out the window and into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Joe received a note under his apartment door. He stared at it. It read, "University of New York Crime Lab. 10:00. DB." Joe was confused. Diana Bennett had pushed him out her door barely eighteen hours ago. Now, it seemed like she was on Catherine's case and wanted to give him an update. If he still had an office, he'd just take a phone call. Actually, if he still had an office, Cathy would be taking the phone call and giving him a report. He sighed and pulled on the rumpled suit he had worn yesterday. He found a cleaner shirt on the floor and knotted a tie loosely around his neck. He gathered up the papers from Hughes he had strewn over the coffee table and turned and looked at the apartment. Diana's words from yesterday came back to him. "'And then you began to dream about her and your mind took these illogical leaps. And you followed up absurd leads and intuitions, and pretty soon you couldn't think of anything else.'"

"I really ought to do laundry," he said as he locked the door and headed downtown.

Fortunately, Joe was suspended, not fired, and his credentials still worked. He entered a long hallway in the Crime Lab building and began to walk down it. Diana Bennett came out of a door about half-way down and he joined her. They walked in silence a few more steps and then entered an empty office. It looked like Diana was using it. Her purse and coat were sitting on an empty chair next to a dusty desk.

"Joe, I need to ask you a question and before I do, I need you to clear your mind and just give me the first answer that pops into your head."

Diana Bennett didn't beat around the bush. "What the hell is going on? What happened to Sally Rogers?"

"We lost her. Perp killed himself after."

"Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Look, there's some new information on Catherine and I need to ask you about it, but you've got to clear your mind for me."

"What? Why?"

"When you think of Cathy Chandler, I want to know who makes you jealous?"

"Seriously, Bennett?"

"Yeah. You were in love with her."

Joe stared at her, stunned. "No, I-" Diana looked at him pointedly. "Okay, maybe. But, like how you feel about your older brother's girlfriend. Nothing was ever gonna come of it."

"Okay, Joe. Okay. But who made you jealous?"

Instantly, Joe's face hardened. "Elliot Burch."

"Elliot Burch?" Joe nods. "What about a guy named, Vincent?"

"No, I never heard of him until we started looking around her apartment. We found some books and letters signed by him."

"Not this time."

"What?"

"Current police report doesn't say anything about a Vincent. The stuff from you, from before the bloodstain, does."

"What does this have to do with anything anyway?"

Diana sighed and sat down on the only available chair. She pulled her feet up underneath her and hugged her knees. "The lab guys think they know whose blood was mixed in with Cathy's."

"Who?"

"They think Cathy was pregnant. DNA from the second sample shares some traits with Cathy, but it isn't identical. Looks like her baby."

"A baby? Cathy was pregnant?"

"You didn't know?"

"No. She was real weird about personal stuff like that."

"She didn't say anything the last time you talked to her?"

"No, she said a friend of hers was going through a tough time. She said it was someone she loved and that she was worried about him. She thought she might need some more time off. She took a couple of weeks, worked at night some and then I met with Pat Hanlon and he gave me that book. Then, his car exploded and I ended up in the hospital. I gave Cathy the book and asked her to look into it. That was the last time I saw her."

"So, what did Burch want with her?"

"He wanted to marry her." Joe smiled slightly, remembering when Burch tried to wine and dine Cathy with lobster and champagne in the middle of the busy DA office. "She turned him down."

"Did he give it up easy?" Joe shrugged. "When was the last time she saw Burch?"

"I don't know? A year? But, like I said, she played that stuff close to the vest."

"Okay, Joe. Thanks." Diana gathered up her coat and purse and left Joe standing in the empty office, alone.

"Wait!" He ran after her. "What can I do? I got to do something. I'm going nuts."

"Okay. Why don't you see if you can track down that doctor, Peter Alcott? His prints were in the house too, but also on that syringe and medicine bottle. Why don't you start 'unofficially' and see what you can find out. You know, 'I'm a friend of Cathy's, have you heard anything, why the hell did you shoot up someone with Narcan?'"

"All right. Thanks, Diana."

"Call me later. I know you got my number." She grinned wryly.

"Yeah. Okay." Joe smiled back. For the first time in six months, Joe felt something that seemed strangely like hope.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Earlier that day, after too little sleep, Peter rounded on Catherine. Chelsea told him that she had spoken to Vincent when he had visited that night, but seemed to think that she was still with her kidnappers. She seemed agitated, but Vincent had calmed her and she had gone back to sleep. She was sleeping still. Her latest H/H was stable and she remained afebrile. Peter looked her over briefly and told Chelsea that he wanted her to try to get Catherine to eat something. He was thinking of sending her Below either later that day or tomorrow morning.

He was out at the nurse's desk, absent-mindedly writing his note and orders when two police officers approached. "Damn," Peter thought to himself. "Margie is off duty today." He turned away and hurried with his work.

"Good morning," the older officer spoke to the nurse at the desk. "I'm officer Downey and this is officer Sparks. We were here yesterday and had a hard time getting the information we needed. We are looking for any 'Jane Doe's' admitted in the last forty-eight hours with any conditions that could have led to massive blood loss."

Carol, the charge nurse that day, glanced down at the roster of patients in front of her. "We are a gynecological floor. We don't get too many patients like that. Most of the trauma patients are down on the third floor. And, we don't have any 'Jane Doe's' on the unit."

"Okay, thanks."

The two officers walked back down the hall. "Geez, why couldn't the old broad yesterday just tell us that?" Sparks muttered.

Peter watched them go over his shoulder. Then, he handed the chart to Carol. She flipped through it and flagged his orders.

"Anything I need to know about, Dr Alcott?"

"Not really. Just trying to get her to eat a little. Her family wants her transferred as soon as possible."

"I've noticed she hasn't had many visitors."

"No. I'm an old friend of the family. She got ill while visiting and I've been taking care of her. Her family hired the private duty nurse. Of course, they want her home as soon as she can."

"Sure, doctor. We'll try to get her sitting up and eating some soup this morning. If it goes well, I'll page you and start the transfer process."

"Thanks, Carol. Talk with you soon." Peter hurried down the hall to the elevators. He had a full schedule in the office today, but didn't have anymore patients in the hospital. He'd look at the schedule when he got in and see if he could arrange an early day. He had to send a note Below to Jacob too. He hoped Catherine was well enough to transfer today. Besides worrying that someone would recognize her, she was adding to his caseload and he wasn't sleeping well. He was afraid he would make a stupid mistake and jeopardize everything.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Despite his late night, Vincent was up at his usual time. He had realized, when he had awoken and heard the faster heart rate in his head that there was one key element that he had failed to mention to Father. He hurried his dressing and sought out his parent in the hospital chamber.

"Ah, Vincent, good morning." Father and Mary were sorting through the inventory of medical supplies. "We are looking through everything to be sure we have all we need for Catherine. Peter sent a note this morning. He wants to transfer here as soon as he can; perhaps later this evening."

"She looked much better last night, but she seemed confused about where she was. My presence seemed to comfort her."

"Then we should get her here quickly." Father turned to Mary. "Do you think we have enough IV tubing? I'm not sure if she'll still need fluids or not, but she will likely need the antibiotics for several more days."

"Father," Vincent interrupted. "I must speak to you." He looked at Mary.

"Oh," she said. "I'll just go check the other cupboard and see." She walked off to the other side of the hospital chamber.

"What is it, Vincent?"

"Father, when I found Catherine the other night, right before she collapsed, she told me something rather amazing. I've been thinking on it and I believe I've realized why I was able to find her."

"Tell me."

"The child that Catherine delivered that night is my child."

"What?"

"A son. She said he is beautiful."

"Where is he?"

"He was taken, by the man that held Catherine all this time."

Father sat down stiffly. "How did you find Catherine, Vincent?"

Vincent began to pace. "I thought our Bond had returned. I felt something and it drew me to her, to that rooftop. But when I arrived, the helicopter was leaving. I thought it was taking her from me again, but then I turned and saw her. I've been thinking on this Father. I think what I've been feeling is our son."

"Do you sense him all the time?"

"If I concentrate on it. But, sometimes the feeling increases; it comes in waves and then is quiet again. However, it is getting stronger, as he is getting stronger."

"Do you think you could find him again?"

"It was so strong that night, the night he was born."

"The trauma of birth."

"Yes, it hasn't felt that strong since."

"Well, in a way. That is a good thing. He is well and safe, despite being cared for a by a madman."

"I'm torn, Father. I still have no sense of Catherine. I know where she is and if there is any change, Peter will contact us immediately, but I do not feel at ease unless I am near her. And then there is the child, my sense of him is pulling me."

"Where?"

"I am not sure and so I remain here."

Father reached up and patted Vincent's arm. "I think we should get Catherine settled here Below. When she is here, where you can be sure she is safe, and healthy, then go find your son."

"But, Father," Vincent protested. "He is out there, alone, without his parents."

"Vincent, if he were ill or injured or in immediate danger, you would know. This man kept Catherine because he wanted the baby. He meant to kill her after she delivered. He will keep your son safe, at least for now."


	6. Chapter 6

All he knew was need. He wasn't sure what he needed, but he knew he needed it now. There were only two things to do. Lie there and wait or call out to those others who would come in and give it to him. He was by nature peaceful and patient and so he laid quietly staring at the ceiling and waited. The need gnawed at him. He shifted where he lay. He squirmed and tried to wait some more. But by now, the discomfort became so acute that he couldn't help it. He called, quietly at first, a soft mewing sound. Nothing, just more of the need. He kicked his feet and flailed his arms free, but that did not ease the feeling of need. He couldn't take it anymore and he began to scream and cry, louder and louder. He kicked some more and the blanket covering him came off and bunched at the end of the bed. He cried and cried. Finally, a crack of light opened up the darkness and She walked in.

She came to him and lifted him up. She changed his lower clothes then sat in a chair. She put the bottle to his mouth and he drank. She burped him, clinically, and laid him back in the bed. She pulled the blanket back over him and left the room. She never said a word or touched him except as She absolutely had to.

He expected the light to go off then. It usually did. But this time a Man came in and leaned over the bed. The Man reached out and touched his hand and stroked his cheek. He reached out and grasped the ring on the Man's hand. Then the Man whispered, "Go on. Grasp it. Don't be afraid. The day will come. You'll know the truth. When the ring is on your finger, that day, your life will truly begin. Listen to the shadows. Nothing is impossible. The truths are so simple. Their fear will build your castles. Their greed will make them slaves. Look. When they close their eyes. Push forward whenever they pull back. Eat the meals they dare not taste. The power will come so easily. Century after century, the truths never change. Someday. Sleep now. Grow strong, my son, my Julian."

He didn't want to sleep. There was still need growing in him, but the change and the bottle had satiated most of this desire and in spite of himself, he felt his eyelids drooping. The Man spoke as if he was his parent, his father. But he wasn't. And suddenly, his eyes popped open and he knew what his true need was.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Joe had spent the better part of the morning tracking down all the Dr. Peter Alcotts in the city. Fortunately, there were only three and the first two had never even heard of Catherine Chandler. The third wouldn't even get on the phone with him. So Joe pulled on his rumpled suit coat and went out again into the city. He carried with him his copy of the initial results that Hughes had given him and found his way to Dr. Alcott's office.

Peter's near run-in with the police officers at the hospital nurse's desk had rattled him. He began to think that maybe it didn't matter if Cathy would stay awake or stand or eat anything. He began to think that it might be best to get her Below as soon as he could. He was thinking over plans and ideas in the back of his head all day while seeing his patients in the clinic. Finally, there was a lull in the afternoon and he went to his office to pen another note to Jacob. He heard voices rising and it caught his attention. As Peter walked to the front of the clinic, he could see his receptionist, Rita, and one of his nurses, Marlene, arguing with a younger man in a rumpled suit. He was holding up a manila folder.

"Look, all I need is to talk to him. I can make an appointment if I need to. Just tell him I need to talk to him!"

"I'm sorry sir. Dr. Alcott is all booked up for today and he is too busy to simply speak to you. If you are not a patient of his, you'll have to wait for his first available appointment, which is in six weeks," Rita said, in a soothing tone.

"Do not condescend to me!" Joe cried. "I need to see Dr Alcott now."

Peter stepped in. "What is all this about, Marlene?"

"This _gentleman_ was harassing Rita about seeing you, doctor. We were trying to explain to him that you are booked for the day."

"What is this about?" Peter asked Joe.

"A mutual friend," Joe answered.

"Who?"

"Cathy Chandler."

Peter's heart nearly stopped at Joe's words. "Thanks ladies, but I'll meet with him. My 3:00 is a no-show. When Mrs. Miller is settled, come get me in my office." Peter nodded to his employees and then escorted Joe back through the clinic to his office. He closed a door, moved a pile of charts off one of the chairs and indicated Joe should sit down. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Peter asked, sitting in his own chair across the desk.

"Joe Maxwell, sir. I worked – No I _work_ with Cathy."

"You're with the DA's office?" Peter was definitely tachycardic. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

"Not at the moment. I've been suspended." Peter calmed a bit at that news. "It was because of my search for Cathy. My other work suffered. I'm not here in any official capacity, sir. I simply want to know what happened to Cathy."

"Do you always show such concerns for your work colleagues?"

Joe blushed and looked down. "Cathy is special."

"Are you in love with her?"

"Everyone seems to think so." Joe shook his head. This wasn't supposed to be about him. This was about Peter Alcott and the bottle of Narcan on Cathy's bedside table. He cleared his throat. "I know that you are the executor of Cathy's estate and an old family friend."

Peter frowned a bit. How had Joe come by this knowledge? Well, it was the truth. "Yes, I am. I went to college with her father. I actually delivered Cathy. After her father died, she was left alone with no family. I think of her as a surrogate daughter. What brings you here?"

"I wasn't sure if you heard, but there has been a break in her case."

Peter's heart started back up again. "What?"

"The cleaning woman you hired found a large bloodstain on Cathy's bed two days ago. She called the police."

"Dammit," Peter thought. Aloud he asked, "Is it Cathy's?"

"Yes."

"Well, where is she then?"

"That was going to be my question for you sir. The police also found an empty bottle of Narcan and a syringe. The fingerprints on them are yours."

"Dammit, dammit!" Peter cursed in his mind. He stayed silent. "Plead the Fifth," he thought, remembering an old joke with Charles.

"Where is she, Dr. Alcott."

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't, Dr. Alcott? Look, your fingerprints are all over her apartment. They are on the bottle and the syringe. Who did you inject on Cathy Chandler's bed?"

"I can't tell you."

"Okay, I will have to return with a warrant. Don't go anywhere, Dr. Alcott. I will find her and if you had anything to do with her disappearance, well. A judge isn't going to care who delivered her when they are sentencing her kidnapper." Joe stormed out of Peter's office and out of the building.

Peter sat there stunned for a moment, then hurried out of his office. "Marlene," he called. "I need to cancel the rest of my day. There's an emergency."

"Of course doctor." This was not an unheard of event for a Family Practitioner, but coming on the heels of Joe Maxwell flying out the door, it made Marlene somewhat suspicious. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, just reschedule the rest of the day. Thanks!" And then Dr. Alcott was flying out the door, still in his white coat with his stethoscope draped around his neck.

Peter went directly to the basement of the office building and sought out the special pipe Pascal's father had installed when Peter started his practice. He tapped out a message - "Father prepare to move C NOW. Peter" - and then returned up two flights to the main floor. He flagged a taxi and headed to the hospital where Catherine was as quickly as possible.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Joe found a payphone and tried Diana Bennett, but she didn't answer. She wasn't home. She was in the front office of Elliot Burch, waiting to be seen. Suddenly, the door opened and a handsome bearded man with piercing blue eyes approached her.

"Ms. Bennett?" At her nod he extended his hand. She took it. "I'm Elliot Burch. Please come in."

They walked into his office and he shut the door. He indicated a chair by his desk and stood and looked out the window.

"I'm investigating the disappearance of Catherine Chandler."

"You want to know who kidnapped her."

"Was it you?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No."

"But you'll find out." It wasn't a question.

"I suppose, if you do your job." He began to walk to the door of his office and she stood and followed him.

"How do you feel about Vincent?"

"Who?"

"Cathy had been seeing him for the last two years."

"We never discussed him."

"You ever meet him?"

"Nope. Look, I've told you everything I know."

Diana took a business card out her purse. "No, I don't think you have Mr. Burch. But I'd appreciate you telling me the truth about one thing."

He took the card. "What's that?"

"I want to find him too. So call me. At least tell me whether or not I'm looking for a dead man." She walked out past him. "I hate wasting my time."

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

It had been difficult, but it was done. Father leaned on his cane and looked at his old friend, sitting quietly in his study. Peter laid his head back and kept his eyes closed for a long time.

Peter had gotten to the hospital where he found Catherine relatively unchanged, but also undisturbed. Chelsea was dozing in her chair. She had startled when he entered the room. She had agreed to his plan, but he cursed the necessary paper trail. Hiring a private ambulance to transfer her and getting it to stop in an alleyway had been the easiest part of the plan. The bureaucratic red tape was another matter! He had forged the transfer papers and made up the name of an attending at a rehabilitation hospital in Newark. Some day soon, that was going to come back to haunt him. Joe Maxwell's words kept ringing in his ears. Maybe it was time to retire.

Vincent had met them at the entrance with a stretcher and two strong men to bear it. When Peter's frantic call had come over the pipes, Pascal had worked double time getting everyone into place. They transferred Catherine to the stretcher from the ambulance gurney and sent the ambulance away. One hundred dollars in the pockets of the driver and his assistant had bought their silence. Chelsea followed the stretcher Below with Peter. Vincent had carried her IV bag and walked the entire way, holding Catherine's hand in his. Peter had assumed that they would be settling her into the hospital chamber, but said nothing when the last set of stretcher bearers went directly to Vincent's chamber. They settled Catherine into bed and Chelsea changed the IV bag and hung the new one on the pole next to the head of the bed. She stood quietly to the side, talking in a low voice to Mary. Peter put the bag of supplies he had brought for her on the table and then conferred with Jacob. While Father was busy with his new patient, Peter had gone to his study to just relax.

Father stood watching him from the doorway. "You should stay here tonight, Peter."

"I may take you up on that, old friend."

"Stay for a few days."

"I'm tempted, but I need to return. To keep this secret, things must continue as normally as possible."

Father looked at him. "What is it Peter?"

"Did Vincent tell you about the police?"

"Yes. He said both of you forgot to clean up. You were both relieved at finding her and then consumed with saving her life."

"I didn't wear gloves when I started her line and gave her the Narcan. And I didn't take the bottle or syringe with me."

"What does that matter?"

"Fingerprints, Jacob. A Joe Maxwell from the DA's office came to the clinic with some hard questions to answer. And I will have to answer."

"Well, if you need to disappear, you are always welcome here."

"Thank-you, but I have so many other responsibilities Above. By running my own practice, I've been able to help you so over the years. But, it comes at a cost. Perhaps I'll go out and visit Susan."

"That is a good idea. Let me see about a guest chamber and some dinner for you. That is a long walk. You must be exhausted."

"Thank-you, Jacob."

"No, old friend. It is I who must thank you."


	7. Chapter 7

Catherine woke slowly. There was a vague pain in her belly and pressure on her chest. The next thing she was aware of was sound. There were clatterings and metallic tappings around her that made no sense. It was strange, she thought, to hear something after so many months of silence. It reminded her of being Below, with Vincent. She kept her eyes closed, holding on to the memory. How she missed the sounds of the Tunnels after so many months of white, bright walls and silence. Her captors kept her in a room so far above the ground that she often went days without hearing the normal sounds she had grown up with – the sounds of the city. No one spoke to her, other than to ask her to move or lie back or extend her arm. She was going slowly insane from lack of human interaction.

She turned her head when she heard someone walking about the room. She refused to open her eyes. She couldn't face the nurse who silently brought her food, who said as few words as possible to her and only when necessary, who guided her to the dreaded exams with an evil clinical glee. Catherine sighed. How she wished to see Vincent. She wished with all her heart that she would open her eyes to find herself lying in his chamber, to see him sitting, reading at his table, the candlelight making his hair glow.

"Catherine," that amazing voice from her dreams whispered. "Open your eyes, Catherine."

"Mmm. No."

"No?"

"Don't wanna wake up."

"You must."

"Dream will end."

"The dream is just beginning."

Catherine frowned and against her better judgment, opened her eyes. She was lying on Vincent's bed in his chamber and the candlelight was making his golden mane glow. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Is it real?"

"Yes, Catherine. This is real. You are safe now, my love."

Catherine stretched out a shaky hand to Vincent who caught it and brought her fingers to his lips. He kissed them gently. "You're safe. You're here." She blinked slowly and then looked at him again. His blue eyes shone from under the ridge of his brows and then crinkled as he smiled. She smiled and tried to laugh, but it turned into a sob. Another followed and then another. Vincent gathered her up in his arms and held her as she cried and cried and cried.

Mary was on her way to check her patient when she heard Catherine's sobs from the hallway. She knew Vincent was with her, so she detoured to Father's chamber and found him with Peter. They had been discussing how to explain Peter's fingerprints on the Narcan bottle in Catherine's apartment when Mary entered. "She's awake." All three hurried to Vincent's chamber.

Father had initially balked at having Catherine in Vincent's quarters rather than the hospital chamber, but now he was glad he had lost that argument. He was glad his son was close to her. After what she had been through, she needed Vincent and his all-encompassing love around her.

The three all paused at the entrance to Vincent's chamber and took in the sight of Vincent holding Catherine and rocking her gently. Her sobs had begun to quiet and they could hear Vincent crooning in her ear. They waited quietly for Catherine to calm. Her sobs stopped, but tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She took several shaky, shuddering breaths. She looked up at Vincent.

"Is it over?"

"Yes."

She took another deep breath and buried her face in his neck, his hair falling over her head. He kissed the top of her head and turned to the others. "Catherine, can Father and Peter see to you now?"

She nodded and the three entered the room fully. Mary held Father's bag and stood to one side, waiting for direction. Peter approached the bed first. Vincent laid her back on the pillows and reluctantly stepped away.

"Hi, honey," Peter said.

"Oh, Peter. I thought I'd dreamed you too."

"Nope. I'm real. How are you feeling?"

"Sore, tired, hungry, confused."

"All right. We can take care of all that. Jacob, will you?"

"Of course, Peter." Father stepped forward with his stethoscope in hand. "Welcome home, Catherine."

"Home?" she asked.

"Of course." Father put the stethoscope in his ears and placed the bell on her chest. "Deep breaths, my dear." Everyone stayed silent as Father finished his examination. He stepped back and handed his stethoscope back to Mary. "You may want to check as well, Peter, since you've seen her from the beginning, but it appears as if she is continuing her recovery. Heart rate is regular. Lungs are clear. Her belly is not tender. She doesn't seem dehydrated. I suggest a meal and a bath. Mary?"

"I'll send a message to the kitchens."

"Wait," Catherine said weakly. "I have to know. What happened to me? How did I get here?"

Peter sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. "Vincent found you."

"Where was I? How long was I gone?"

"Just over six months," Vincent replied.

"Vincent looked for you every night," Father added. "Finally, three nights ago, he found you."

"You were very ill," Peter continued. "You had been given an over-dose of morphine. You had recently given birth and retained the placenta. You had a terrible infection and were bleeding profusely."

"I thought I'd lost you," Vincent murmured.

"But we didn't." Peter looked up at Vincent significantly. "Vincent took you to your apartment and when he discovered you were still alive, he called me. I took you to a hospital under an assumed name and stabilized you there. We transferred you here just last night."

"Where is my baby?"

"I'm not sure," Vincent said. "But we will find him."

Mary had stopped the conversation then, insisting that Catherine needed food and a bath and a change of clothing. She shooed the older men out, but kept Vincent for his brute strength alone. Mary bathed Catherine in the bed and with Vincent's help, washed her hair. She changed her into clean, warm clothing. Vincent lifted her tenderly from the bed and set her in a chair while he and Mary changed the bed. He put her back into the clean bed and she sighed happily. Mary brought over a bowl of soup and some bread.

"I'll leave you two, now," Mary smiled and gathered up the laundry.

"Mary, wait," Catherine said. She looked up at Vincent and then lowered her eyes. Their Bond had not completely returned, but Vincent knew she needed a private word with Mary. He stepped away silently and stood near the door.

"Mary, my breasts are so sore."

"Oh, your milk has come in."

"What should I do? I want to find him and I want to be the one to feed him. But, it hurts."

"I believe we have a hand-pump in the hospital chamber. I'm not certain if we can save your milk, but if you keep pumping, you won't lose it. And then when we find him, you'll be ready for him."

"Will that work?"

"I've heard of women who deliver too early and the child must remain in the hospital. The mothers pump their milk until the child is strong enough to nurse. It will be the same thing." Mary patted her hand. "You eat and then I'll come help you in a little while."

"Thank-you, Mary."

"My pleasure. I'm just so glad you're back." Mary stood and walked to the door. She stopped by Vincent. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked him.

"A bit over-whelmed, but she is here and she will be well. I've never been better." He smiled.

Mary smiled in return. "I'll be back soon. You be sure to eat as well."

Vincent returned to the table and began to prepare the food for her. Catherine tried to sit up higher in the bed, but fell back weakly. Vincent came to her and eased her up on the pillows. He returned to the table and brought over the soup.

"Thank-you," she said. "I've never felt this weak."

"You bled a lot. With the infection and the morphine, you have a lot to recover from." He sat near her and ladled out a spoonful. "Let me care for you, Catherine. I need to."

She sipped the soup off the spoon and looked into his eyes. "Was it difficult?" she asked after swallowing. "While I was in the hospital?"

"Yes," he breathed, spooning up more soup. "It was difficult when I didn't know where you were. Then, when I knew where you were, but couldn't be close to you, it was worse."

"That is how it was for me, when they had me. I was trapped up in that room for months. I knew if I could just get to a stairwell and out the door, I could find you. I knew you were looking for me. I knew how hard it was for you, to not know where I was."

"What happened, Catherine?"

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow, thinking back. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Did you get my message?"

"You wanted me to meet you at your threshold."

"Yes. I was leaving work to go there directly. I had been working on something. Did I tell you Joe had been injured?"  
"I don't believe so."

"You were still so sick. I didn't want to burden you with anything. Joe had met with an old friend from law school who was working for a big firm. He discovered some illegal dealings and had a ledger with information. He gave it to Joe. Then, he got into his car and it exploded, killing him and gravely injuring Joe.

"When I visited Joe in the hospital, he asked me to take the ledger and look into it. I donated blood for him. That is when I found out."

"Found out what," Vincent asked.

"About the baby." He took her hand. "I rushed here to tell you, but you were still so weak and upset over the loss of our Bond. I didn't want to worry you."

"Is that what you meant? 'Maybe the gift will return to you in a different form; something you had never even dreamed of.' I never would have dreamt of a child, not then."

"No, I know. But I thought we had all the time in the world. I had no idea what was in that ledger and that it would cause all of this."

"What was in it?"

"I'm still not sure. I showed it to John, since Joe was still out, as my direct supervisor. He asked for it, but I made him a copy. Then, I showed it to Elliot Burch."

"Did Elliot..?"

"No," Catherine interrupted. "Elliot had nothing to do with this." She took a deep breath and allowed herself to remember and to tell Vincent what had happened.

"The next day, I decided I would tell you about the baby. I had thought about it and worrying over your reaction and finally, I couldn't take not knowing what you'd say anymore. I just had to tell you and find out.

"I sent you that note and gathered up my things and briefcase and went to the parking garage. When I got in my car, someone approached it with a gun. I tried to escape in the car, but they had cut me off. I left the car and ran for the elevator. When it opened, I saw John. I thought I was safe. Then, he nodded to two men behind me and they took me."

"John? John Moreno? Your boss. The district attorney?"

"Yes." She was crying openly. "That betrayal has haunted me all this time."

Vincent gathered her up and held her crying form to his chest. His mind was racing. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her face. "Tell me the rest."

"They drugged me almost immediately. I remember feeling so hazy and confused. They wanted the ledger and I couldn't tell them where it was."  
"Why not? Wouldn't they have let you go if you had?"

"I couldn't, Vincent. I had given Elliot another copy and hid the original behind some loose bricks just past the threshold in my apartment building. If I told them where it was, they would have found you. I couldn't let anything happen."

"How did you resist?"

She pressed her lips together. "You are everything to me. Everything."

He pulled her back to his arms and pressed his lips to her hair. They stayed together, motionless, for several minutes.

"Tell me the rest."

"They had found out about the baby. I had morning sickness and they did all sorts of things to me. But, they stopped because of the baby. I found myself somewhat lucid at one point and noticed the pipes in my room."

"And sent a message and I found you."

"I think the man in charge of everything saw you then and determined that my baby was yours. He saw your power and strength and wanted that child for his own."

"I should have followed the car. I should have hung on tighter. I should have..." Vincent held her firmer in an almost painful grip. Catherine pulled herself back and looked in his eyes.

"Don't, Vincent. I have had months alone in that room to think of 'should haves' and 'if only's.' I won't let you do that to yourself. It is done now." She freed her hands and pulled his head down to her and kissed his brow. "It is done."

"You were moved to a different place and they just kept you there until you gave birth?"

She nodded. "I was completely isolated. No one spoke to me, except as part of the examinations. I was all alone, except for him. Our baby. I'd whisper to him.

"Then, three days ago? Four? I'm not sure. I went into labor. I knew what would happen when he was born. I knew that man would take him and likely kill me. I tried to hide it as long as I could, but it just hurt so much. They showed him to me, but I couldn't touch him. Then, they snatched him away. I didn't even deliver the afterbirth before the doctor gave me that injection."

"I went to the roof. I never felt you inside that building. When the helicopter flew off, I thought you were gone again. And then, you were in my arms."

"It was him, taking our baby." Catherine leaned back against the pillows, exhausted.

"I thought you died, there on the roof."

"I thought I did too. I was so glad I got to see you again." Vincent laid his head on her shoulder and they were both silent again. Catherine raised a shaky hand and stroked his hair. "Vincent?" He raised his head and looked at her. "How did you find me?"

"I've thought about it a great deal. I thought our Bond had returned, but I don't think so now. I don't feel you now as I once did. I think." He paused, afraid of what this revelation would do to her fragile state. "I think I felt the child."

"What? You can feel him? Go! Find him!" She was frantic and her eyes were wild. "Vincent!"

"Shh, Catherine. Let me explain." He calmed her and laid her back on the pillows. "I've spoken with Father and he agrees. This connection with our child is flimsy and delicate. I felt him so strongly the day he was born due to the trauma of birth. Now, I only sense him when he is in distress. Only if I am very still and quiet can I get any sense of him at all. It is too weak for me to pinpoint his location. I need more information."

Catherine closed her eyes and tears leaked out. "I thought..." she whispered.

"I know. I would if I could." He stroked her face gently. "You have been awake longer now than you have in nearly four days. Rest now. Let me go speak to Peter and to Father. They found Peter's fingerprints in your apartment and Joe Maxwell from the DA's office has questioned him. We need to find out what to do."

"I trust Joe. If he knew what was in that ledger or had any inkling of what Moreno was capable of, he never would have had me investigate. I also trust Elliot Burch." Her eyes were closing of their own accord.

Vincent bent and kissed her forehead. "Rest now, Catherine. I'll ask Mary or Jamie to sit with you. I must speak with Peter and with Father."

"I love you," she murmured, falling asleep with tears still wet on her cheeks.

He gently traced the track of her tears with one finger. "And I love you, Catherine."


	8. Chapter 8

"Cleon, I've got people from the police department asking me about Cathy. Tell me you've got something, anything, for me." Elliot Burch ran his hands through his hair and looked down at his private investigator.

"Sorry, boss. I think I'm on to something and then it all goes south."

"No trace of her?" Cleon shook his head. "No Jane Doe's admitted that night match her description?"

"Nope."

"That detective asked me about a guy named Vincent. You find anything?"

"Not a trace."

"What about the ledger she gave me?"

"We know that the top guy is working through Malloy-Davidson and he's got people in the police department and the DA's office. But who he is or works for? Nothing." Cleon stood up and grasped Elliot's shoulder. "Look, boss. Maybe it is time to let it go."

"What?"

"Maybe she can't be found. Maybe she doesn't want to be."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, I don't think I'm the one to do it."

"There's finally a break, Cleon! This could be it! We just need to try harder."

"I'll give it another week." Elliot sighed in frustration. "I've got a family, man. My guys have families. This is dangerous. Whoever that guy is, he's dangerous. And he don't want to be found."

"All right, Cleon. One more week." Elliot walked over to the window and looked out over the city. Cleon shook his head and left the room. Elliot continued to look out the window. "Ah, Cathy, Cathy. Where are you?" he whispered. A noise at the door brought his head up. "Did you forget something, Cleon?"

"Don't be frightened," a gravelled voice coming from a black cloak in the shadows said.

Elliot turned and stared. "Who are you?"

"I'm Vincent."

Elliot moved towards a lamp. "Please, don't," Vincent said. Elliot stopped.

"So, you're Vincent. A lot of people want to talk to you." Vincent remained silent. "What can I do for you, Vincent?"

"Catherine trusted you, Elliot."

"Yes."

"Can I?"

"I don't know, Vincent. Trust is usually earned."

"I haven't the time. And I need help."

"Does it have to do with Catherine?" Vincent nodded once. "Do you know where she is?"

Vincent hesitated and then shook his head. He hated to lie, but he still wasn't sure if Elliot was trustworthy enough to keep all his secrets. "I know where she was held, for a time."

"Is she still there?"

"I do not believe so. I need information about this place, Elliot. A man of your resources should have no difficulty finding that information."

"You want to know who owns the building? Who rented space there?"

Vincent nodded again. "Also, have you had any luck with the ledger?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I also have resources."

Elliot sighed and sat down on the sofa between his desk and the door. "I've been working on it. I've sent it to cryptologists. I can only get through part of it. The rest of it is too deeply encoded." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "I do know that two companies, Malloy-Davidson and Hammond-Norton Trust, are implicated in the ledger. I know that they have people in the police department and in the DA's office. So, who can you trust? And, they are giving my business a hard time. I'm having difficulty in getting funding for a new project and my casino in Atlantic City just burned to the ground. Over 200 innocent people died. I believe those companies are a front for someone else and he is trying to send me a message. He wants me to back off my search for Cathy."

"Be careful, Elliot. The way is dangerous and not yet clear. You do not have to commit yourself."

"I know." Elliot stood up and walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured some Scotch into a highball glass. "But, it's Cathy, you know? I can't rest until I know." He tossed back his drink.

"I do know."

"What is the address?"

"1900 Sixth Avenue."

Elliot nodded. "How can I get in touch with you?" Elliot turned back to the bottle and poured himself another measure of Scotch.

"I'll contact you. Tomorrow."

Elliot turned back, "But what if...?" His question went unasked because Vincent was gone.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V  
**

It was early in the morning when Diana thanked the uniformed officer and entered Catherine's darkened apartment. The officer flipped on the light and closed the door. Diana let her bag fall slowly to the ground and then turned off the lights. She leaned on one of the sofas and looked around the room. Her eye lit on the doors to the bedroom and she walked in. The bloodied bedspread had been removed, but Diana could see it there in her mind's eye. She walked in and ran her hand over the pillow. She turned to the balcony doors and went out. She looked at the view, the surrounding buildings and the park below. There were dead plants scattered about and a rosebush in a large container on its last legs. She touched the brown leaves lightly.

She walked back inside through the doors in the dinette and went to the desk in the corner. She sat down and examined the contents. There was a photograph in a frame on one side, presumably her mother. On the other side, there was a framed invitation. It was a drawing of a stringed instrument with the words "You're Invited" written in crayon. Curious, Diana pulled the frame towards her, turned it over and removed the back. She took the invitation out and opened it. Inside, in a flowing script decidedly different from the crayoned words on the front, was written, "The children are putting on a concert tonight. Meet me Below at the threshold. Vincent."

Diana turned the card over, but it was blank on the back. She stood up from the desk and walked over to the couch. "Below at the threshold," she murmured. "The threshold Below? Hmm." She put the card in her bag and then stood and left the apartment.

She nodded at the uniform and took the elevator to the basement. She walked along the walls, looking for doorways. She nearly missed it, but there in the dark corner was the edge of a doorway. There were boxes piled in front of it, but they proved easy to move as they were mostly empty. Diana reached out and pulled on the handle. The door opened into a hole in the wall that went down. She couldn't see the bottom. She dug around in her bag and pulled out a flashlight and shown it down the hole. She could see bottom and a set of rungs set into the wall. She turned off the flashlight, tucked it in her bag and threw the whole thing over her shoulder. She climbed down the rungs. At the bottom, she fished out the flashlight and looked around. She stepped out of a bluish shaft of light and saw a hole in a brick wall. She stepped through it. At that moment, her flashlight went out.

Diana was a fairly brave woman, but traveling in underground tunnels in the dark was at the end of her courage. She climbed back up the rungs and returned to the basement. She closed the door and replaced the boxes. "Well, Catherine Chandler. It looks like you've got quite the secret there." She brushed off her hands walked back up to the ground level. Once outside, she caught a cab and headed over to Joe's apartment.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Joe was frustrated. He had spent the morning trying to contact Diana Bennett and getting a warrant for Peter Alcott. Since he was suspended and not officially involved in the Catherine Chandler case, he couldn't ask for or receive a warrant. He had no legal capacity to question anyone, but the numerous receptionists and assistants he had spoken with in that hour would be happy to pass his concerns on to the investigators in charge.

Diana Bennett was not answering her phone. He had gotten through once and her boyfriend said she was working a case and couldn't be disturbed.

"But I'm working it with her!"

"Yeah, right. She always works alone." The boyfriend hung up.

Joe sat back on his couch and rubbed a hand over his face. He was thinking of going over to Bennett's apartment, when there was a knock at the door. Joe groaned and rose to open it and stood stunned when he saw who it was.

"Good morning, Joe," Peter said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm ready to answer your questions." Joe just stood there. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure come in, come in." Joe guided him past the piles of empty take out containers and pushed a stack of papers off a chair. "Sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank-you." Peter sat gingerly on the edge of the offered chair. "I need to know that I can trust you."

"What do you mean? Of course you can."

"No, Joe. This is serious. This is more than Cathy, more than her kidnapping. Hundreds of lives are at stake."  
"Well, now I'm intrigued, doctor. What do your fingerprints on a bottle of Narcan in Cathy Chandler's apartment have to do with hundreds of lives?"

"Well, the short answer is that I saved her life four days ago with that bottle of Narcan."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes."

"Is she okay?"

"She will be."

"Where is she?"

"Hundreds of lives. It's complicated, Joe."

"Yeah, sure, sure. But, doc," Joe stammered. "She's okay? Cathy's okay?"

Peter reached out and clasped the younger man's forearm. "Yes, Joe. She's fine."

There was a knock at the door. Joe got up to answer it, still in a daze. Diana Bennett came in talking.

"Joe, I was at Cathy's apartment this morning and I found something that you missed and the police missed and I think it's important, but I wanted to run it by you first." She turned and stopped suddenly as she noticed Peter sitting still gingerly on his chair. "Hello."

"Diana Bennett, this is Dr. Peter Alcott."

"Hi."

"Nice to meet you," Peter extended his hand, but she ignored it.

"Joe." She pulled him to the side. "What are you doing interviewing him here?"

"He found me, Diana. I went to his office yesterday, but he wouldn't talk. I left to get a warrant. I couldn't get one and this morning, he knocks on my door."

"Huh." Diana turned back toward the doctor.

"Who is this, Joe? Can I trust her?"

"Yeah. She's working the case for me."

"Is she a cop?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm a special investigator with the 210, special crimes. Who are you? Why were you in Cathy's apartment with Narcan?"

"You should know who I am. I'm the executor of Cathy's estate and her next of kin. I've been taking care of her property while she is missing."

"So what do you know about a huge bloodstain belonging to Cathy on her bed? What was the Narcan for? Where is Cathy Chandler, doctor?"

"As I just told Joe, she is safe."

"But where?"

"Look, I can't tell you. I only have permission to speak to Joe."

"Permission?" Diana was outraged. "Did you have anything to do with her kidnapping?"

"What? No! Look, it's complicated and it's a secret that I have kept my entire professional life. I can't tell just anyone."

"What can you tell us, doctor?

Peter stood up and paced around the living room. Joe and Diana sat on the couch. Intrinsically, they both knew that Peter did not kidnap Catherine, but he very likely was the only one who knew where she was. They sat in silence and let him order his thoughts. After a few moments, Peter began to speak.

Joe, do you remember right before Cathy came to work for you at the DA's office? She had been attacked."

"Yeah, her face was slashed up and she had disappeared for ten days. She said she didn't know where she was." Diana looked at them. "What?"

"You've only had this case for two, three days at most? You work fast, Bennett."

"Most of my cases need me to work fast."

"Anyway," Peter said pointedly. "She did know where she was. She was bound by a secret, just as I am. When she was attacked, someone from a secret community found her and nursed her back to health."

"What is this community?" Joe asked.

"It is a group of people who either cannot or choose not to live among regular society. They have formed their own society and live on the fringes of ours. They have rules and a governing body. Everyone works together and helps each other. Some people live their entire lives in this community. Some come for a short time. Cathy was nursed back to health there. She also stayed there when her father died. This community cannot survive without helpers from our society. I have been a helper since the start. I attended medical school with one of the founders. Cathy recently became a helper. One of them found her. He thought she was dead and brought her to her apartment, but she was still alive. He feared for his safety as well, so rather than call an ambulance, he called me. I revived her with the Narcan. And now, she is Below, where she is safe."

Peter didn't catch his slip and it went right by Joe, but Diana caught it and began to think.

"Doc, you've got to take me to her. I've got to see her."

"She's safe, Joe. For now, that's all I can do."

"The threshold Below," whispered Diana. "Dr. Alcott," she said aloud. "Does someone named Vincent live in this community?"

Peter started at the name. "Yes, why?"

Joe interrupted Diana. "We found things with his name in Cathy's apartment: books, letters."

"An invitation. It said to meet him Below at the threshold." She turned to Joe. "I was coming here because I found a hole in Cathy's basement. It lead to a tunnel. Then, my flashlight gave out." She turned back to Peter. "Where is this community, doctor?"

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Vincent was walking up to a helper's to send a message to Elliot Burch. Suddenly, he felt something in the pit of his stomach. He stopped and leaned against the tunnel wall for support. It was there again – the pounding, the buzzing. He knew it now. It was his child. "Hold on, my son. We will find you."


	9. Chapter 9

"Miss Bennett, if you've heard anything I've said, then you know I cannot answer that."

"Very convenient, doctor. How can we trust you, when you give us a fairy tale of some utopian community?"

"How can I trust you, Detective?" Peter fired back. "I know that whomever took Cathy has people working for him in the DA's office, the police force, and God knows what else!"

"Hey!" Joe said indignantly.

"The point is," Peter said. "I cannot tell you more than I have. Catherine is safe, in a safe place. I will not say anymore."

"Then I guess I gotta go buy flashlight batteries." Diana jumped up and prepared to go out the door.

"Wait." Peter sighed. "Before you go traipsing all over creation, give me a little time. Let me see what I can do."

"And in the meantime?" Joe asked.

"Be patient." Peter picked up his coat and quickly left the apartment, leaving Diana and Joe in his wake.

"Can you believe that?" Diana asked after a moment. "I ought to arrest him as an accessory."

"You've got nothing to hold him," Joe replied, ever the ADA.

They were quiet for a minute. "You know what he didn't mention?"

"What," Joe asked.

"Cathy's baby. Do you think it's with her?"

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

The stoic Asian nurse stood before his desk. Her hands were clasped in front of her, but otherwise, she betrayed no emotion.

"What is wrong with him then?"

"He won't take the formula. He turns away from the bottle. What little he takes, he spits up."

"What does the doctor say?"

"He thinks it is a formula intolerance."

"So try a different formula."

"I have. Three different ones. He turns away from Pedialyte as well."

"Tell the doctor to do what is necessary. My son must live and thrive."

"Yes, sir." The nurse left the room.

The man leaned back in his chair and looked at the monitor on the edge of his desk. There was an image of a newborn crying and kicking his legs up and down. "It is too late for his mother, but perhaps his natural father can help."

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

Elliot left his office near midnight. He walked to the elevator, flanked by his two body guards and went down to the parking garage in the basement. They all entered the car and drove up to the surface. "As the car went around a curve, a hideous sight was illuminated by the headlights. Strung up with chains, hanging from the support beams was the body of Elliot's private investigator, Cleon Manning. The driver came to a sudden stop. "Sir?" he asked.

"Keep going," Elliot said in a stunned voice.

After driving through the relatively quiet streets, the Town car stopped near the carousel in Central Park. One of the bodyguards opened the door for Elliot. "Are you sure, sir?" He looked around the darkened area apprehensively.

"Ten minutes." Elliot adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and walked towards the carousel. He found the door Vincent had mentioned in his note and pushed it open. It was a bit eerie in there with the carousel horses standing still and the moonlight streaming in through the open roof. It was hard to see in there. "Vincent?" he whispered.

In a shadow to Elliot's left, Vincent called, "I'm here." Elliot moved towards him, but he said, "Come no further." Elliot stopped. "What have you found?"

"I can't find who owns the building, or even who rented part of it. It is hidden among mazes of holding companies and third-party lease backs. My people say it will take months to trace. This man, he killed my private investigator, a friend. He left his corpse as a warning to me. What kind of man is that? He has no scruples, no moral code. He will do anything to get what he wants."

Just as Vincent was about to reply, there was a creak as the door swung open. Elliot turned to Vincent, but he melted into the shadows. Elliot turned back to the door and a short, balding man stepped into the light. A second, taller man was behind him with a gun.

"Moreno," Elliot said quietly. In the shadows, Vincent startled. This was the man who fed Catherine to that evil wolf.

"You've got to be crazy, Burch," Moreno said. "What could be worth all this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Probably not. Gaines!"

At the sound of his name, Gaines fired at Elliot. He was expecting this and ducked and began to run among the carousel horses. Elliot hid in the center of the carousel, on the opposite side of the door. Gaines walked between the two rows of horses, his eyes darting right and left. Moreno went the opposite direction of Gaines, pulling a gun from his pocket as he went.

His heart pounding in his ears, Elliot wondered where Vincent had disappeared to. Had he been hit by the first volley of bullets? Then, Elliot saw Gaines approaching. He ducked lower in the shadows until Gaines was next to the horse he was hiding behind. Elliot sprang up and grasped the other man's hands and struck his wrists against a carousel pole, once, twice, three times and the gun flew across the floor. Gaines threw a punch that struck Elliot in the jaw and he fell, striking his head, stunning him for a moment.

"Gaines!" Moreno called, moving towards them.

When Elliot recovered his senses, it was to see Gaines aiming his retrieved gun at his head. Suddenly, there was a roar and Vincent jumped down from the ceiling. He ignored the gun turned in his direction and struck out, knocking Gaines to the floor, unconscious. Elliot remained sprawled where he was, too astonished to move.

Moreno stopped at the sound of Vincent's roar, but Vincent did not. He continued forward and growled, low in his throat. Here was the man who Catherine had trusted, had looked up to, had wanted to impress for two years in the DA's office. He was almost a father figure to her. When she was being chased and was desperate, she had seen Moreno and thought she was safe. But he ignored all that was good and right and let that madman take her, take their baby.

Moreno saw the anger and indignation in Vincent's eyes, as well as the madness of a beast advancing towards him and he fired his gun twice, striking Vincent in the right shoulder and leg. The beast looked down at the blood beginning to stain his clothes and then looked back up at the man who shot him. He took three more steps as Moreno stared in horror and slashed out at the miserable excuse for a man who had betrayed his one true love.

"Who owns you?" Vincent snarled as Moreno trembled, bleeding on the ground.

"What?"

"What is his name? The man you work for!"

"Gabriel."

Vincent turned away from the miserable excuse for a man and moved back towards Elliot.

When all was silent, Elliot found himself on his feet, just as Vincent collapsed to his knees. Elliot reached out, grasping Vincent's hand, pulling him upwards. Vincent reached out with his other hand, bracing himself on Elliot's shoulder and stood. As he did so, the two men who loved Catherine Chandler faced each other. Elliot gasped and then understood everything – Vincent's need for the shadows, all the gaps in Catherine's life, the mysterious tunnels she had led him through when they escaped the Gorronistas. Elliot looked at Vincent's face, full of fear and pain and yet still so beautiful, and knew why he could never truly win Catherine's heart. Vincent moved away quickly, back to the shadows. "Vincent!" Elliot called, but Vincent never looked back.

Vincent limped quickly out of the carousel and down the hill to the drainage tunnel. He opened the metal grate, tripped the lever that opened the stainless steel door and slammed the grate closed. He fumbled for the gate, opened it and slipped inside as the door was still sliding open. He pulled the gate closed and then tripped the lever on the inside near the carving of his and Devin's names and closed the steel door. He leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down it, collapsing in the dirt.

Elliot made his way shakily toward the Town car, in the opposite direction Vincent had went. His driver was hanging up the car phone, but Elliot did not notice.

"You okay, boss?" one of the bodyguards asked.

"Just take me home," he said quietly.

**C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V**

In the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, the thin, dark man stood in another part of Central Park. He was in the zoo, watching a male lion pace in his cage, back and forth, back and forth.

Another man, thin as well, but well-muscled, with hair so blond it was nearly white approached along the path that led up to the cage. There were two stone lions flanking a park bench nearby. "Cold night," he said.

"Yes," the dark one said. "Winter's coming." He turned to the other man. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to make sure you came alone."

The dark man sighed and stepped away from the cage. "I've out-grown those games. I have a job for you."

"I'm retired."

"Un-retire."

"Why should I?"

"There's money in it."

"You're boring me."

"For old time's sake."

"For old time's sake? Huh. I could kill you quickly."

"You could try. But then there'd be no one left to blame. You'd be all alone." The dark man smirked at the light one.

The light man shook his head. "I heard about your little war. It is no challenge for me to kill a man like Elliot Burch."

"Well, Burch is an inconvenience. I wouldn't dream of wasting a man of your talents on him. No, what I have in mind for you is much more intriguing." He pulled a video tape out of his pocket and extended it towards the other man. He turned away. The dark man crouched down and set the tape on the park bench between them. "This may interest you. The night this tape was made, eight armed men were ripped apart, eviscerated." The dark man turned back to the lion.

The light man turned to the tape, then back. Finally, he picked it up. "Creature features. Maybe I should make popcorn." He began to walk away.

"Snow!" the dark man called. Snow stopped and turned back. "I have a child. A son."

"I don't kill children anymore. Not even yours."

"My son is sick. I need him," he gestured towards the tape. "I need him alive."

"Who is he?"

"My enemy."

Snow walked back to the dark man and looked at his face. "You're frightened, Gabriel. You can't sleep nights, can you? But, I'm gonna fix it for you, so you can sleep like a baby. Papa." He turned and walked back down the path.

"Then do it!" the Gabriel called out. "If you can."

Snow turned back while pulling a gun from a hidden holster under his jacket. He fired six times at one of the lion statures, turning it into dust that sprayed over the Gabriel. He frowned, angry, and glared up at Snow.

"I can."


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine was walking towards Father's study, leaning on Mary's sturdy arm. She was feeling stronger. Being safe in Vincent's chamber surrounded by her surrogate family was doing wonders for her health. She stumbled a little as they approached the entrance, hearing angry voices echoing into the hallway.

"Vincent, you must!"

"It is fine, Father!"

"What is it?" Mary asked, entering the room, leaving Catherine leaning on the tunnel wall.

Father glanced over at Mary, and seeing Catherine, hedged. "He is just being obstinate again."

Vincent noticed Catherine in the doorway as well and moved slowly towards her. "Are you sure you should be up and walking so soon?"

"I'm fine, Vincent." She reached up and patted his right shoulder. He winced slightly. "What is it?" Concern crossed over her face.

"I'm fine. Just a minor injury. Nothing to worry about."

"An injury? What happened?" Mary turned to Vincent and eyed him up and down, appraising him like the mother she was to all the Tunnel-dwellers.

Father couldn't take it anymore. "He met with Elliot Burch last night and was shot! He needs to use a sling and refuses. He'll reopen that wound that I just closed."

"Shot!" Catherine gasped. "Vincent! What happened."

"I'm fine," Vincent said. "Your former employer attempted to eliminate Elliot and I prevented it."

"Why were you meeting Elliot?"

"For information that will lead to our son. The man who held you is named Gabriel."

"Is Elliot all right?"

"Yes."

"And John?" Vincent's head drooped. "Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry."

"I am too. At the time I couldn't help but think that he had a choice, and his choice caused all of this. He is supposed to stand for truth and justice. Instead, he allowed a man like Gabriel to control him."

"You both need your rest," Mary broke in. "Come along now."

"I'll be along shortly with a sling for you, Vincent," Father called after him.

Catherine put her arm around Vincent's waist and he held her with his good left arm. "I'll see that he wears it, Father."

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Diana spent a fairly unproductive morning searching for maps of the tunnels beneath the city. She found several maps, but none seemed to be of what she had found under Catherine's building. Frustrated, she left the building, but as she opened the door, she nearly collided with a white-blond-haired man dressed all in black. She went outside and stopped at a payphone to check her messages.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey Mark. I didn't think you'd be home. I was just going to check my messages."

"Hey, babe. Yeah, there's one." She could hear paper rustling in the background. "Some old guy named Peter Alcott called. He wants you to come to this address when you can." He read the address to her and she scribbled it down in her notebook.

"Did Joe Maxwell call back?"

"Nope."

"Kay. Thanks, babe."

"Love you. Bye." Mark hung up.

Diana looked over the address she had written down. "What are you up to now, Dr. Alcott?"

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Joe stepped out of the cab in front of the Chinese restaurant. The sign above the door simply said, "Wong's" in large red letters. He squinted up at it, then looked at the address in his hand. This was definitely the place, but what information regarding the whereabouts of Catherine Chandler could be obtained from this run-down restaurant remained to be seen. Dr. Alcott had called him early this morning, asking him to meet there. He promised more information. Joe shrugged to himself and opened the door.

Lin Pei was working at the front counter in her husband's restaurant that morning. She had received messages from Father and was looking for the former Deputy DA and the flame-haired detective. She approached Joe.

"Good afternoon, sir. May I show you to a table?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She guided him to a table in the corner, away from the window. "Are you dining alone today or meeting someone?"

"I don't know." Joe slapped his newspaper on the table. "You tell me."

Lin lowered her gaze and moved away. "I'll bring you some tea."

Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had been searching hospital records for abandoned newborns, but had as much luck as when the search had been for Jane Doe's matching Catherine's description. A newborn could be anywhere; he didn't even know if he was looking for a girl or a boy.

The bell over the door rang as another customer entered the restaurant. Joe looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Bennett!" he called.

She walked over. "Hey, Joe. Did Alcott contact you too?"

"I guess so. This is so weird."

"No kidding. I spent the morning at the Hall of Records. Did you know that there are literally miles of tunnels under the city?"

"I'm not surprised by anything anymore."

"Did you find anything about the baby?"

"No. Did you find any maps of the tunnels under Cathy's building?"

"No."

Lin returned with a teapot and two cups. "Hey? How did you know I'd need two cups?" Joe asked.

Lin just smiled enigmatically and poured the tea. She went back to the front counter.

Joe picked up his paper and gave it to Diana. "Did you see this?"

Diana picked up the paper and read the article on top. "New York DA John Moreno Found Murdered."

"Oh, my God, Joe. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know. This is getting bizarre."

"Do you know anything?"

"Nope. Nothing more than the front page. I couldn't even think about it. I just kept calling hospitals about abandoned babies until I got Alcott's note."

"When we're done here, I'll go sniff around."

"Thanks."

The two sipped their tea and looked anxiously towards the door every time the bell rang. Finally, two cups later, Lin approached their table.

"I have received a note for you. You are Mr. Maxwell and Ms. Bennett?"

Diana nodded and took the note. Joe slid his chair to her side to read over her shoulder. "That's Cathy's handwriting!" he exclaimed.

_ "__Dear Joe,_

_ "__I am fine, now. I am somewhere safe. I know Peter told you something about it, but I can't tell you anymore. Just know that I am safe and being well cared for. Perhaps soon we can meet face-to-face, but for now this note will have to suffice._

_ "I was kept for over six months __at the top of __an office building. I was alone except for the delivery of my meals and a daily medical examination. I was pregnant and kept until I delivered my son. The man who kept me ordered my death after my baby was born. I nearly died. Peter and other friends saved me. I am well on the road to recovery. There is only one thing I need to be truly well – my son._

_ "My kidnapper took him from that building __i__n a helicopter. The man is thin with dark hair and eyes. I only saw him once, but his cold, unfeeling eyes burn in my memory. His name is Gabriel. I don't know his last name and his first may be an alias. He is powerful enough to have bought the DA. Joe, John was there when I was taken. He let it happen. Be careful. I don't know who you can trust._

_ "Please tell Detective Bennett to stop looking for the Tunnels and for Vincent. She is wasting her time and endangering numerous lives. She should concentrate on finding my son. If she finds him, she will find Gabriel. We have looked to Elliot Burch for help. You should pool your information. If we learn anything else, we will let you know._

_ "I cannot stress the importance of discretion in this matter. I do not know how far this goes. You and Ms. Bennett are the only ones I can trust._

_ "You may leave notes for me here and Lin will see they are delivered. Peter has left town. If there is any danger to the Wong's, we will have to find another __delivery__ point._

_ "Be careful. But write soon._

_ "Catherine."_

"Oh, my God," Joe whispered. "I can't believe it. I knew she was alive. I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah, Joe. You're very smart." Diana had opened her notebook and was jotting notes from Catherine's letter. She looked up and caught Lin's eye. When she approached, Diana asked quietly, "Can you send a return note as soon as possible?" Lin nodded. "Great." She flipped to a clean sheet and began to write. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm asking Cathy for more of a physical description. I'd love to get a sketch artist to her, but maybe she is with someone who can draw. I need an image of this Gabriel guy. Do we know the address of the building she was held in?"

"I don't think so. I left my files at home. Maybe she told Burch?"

"Maybe"

"Look, Bennett, we need to be careful. Watch your back as you're poking into all of this. Cathy may trust Burch, but I'm not sure I do."

"Yeah, I know." He picked up his paper and Diana finished her note.

He said, "Why don't you contact Burch when we leave here. I'm gonna call the office and find out what's what."

"Okay."

They both approached the front counter and Joe paid for the tea. He slid Diana's note under the bill and gave Lin a $20 tip for a $3 pot of tea. "Thanks."

"Come again," Lin said gaily.

"You bet I will," Joe smiled.

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The baby laid in the crib. He cried and cried. His face was beet red and tears streaked down his cheeks. His voice had become hoarse from his screams. Suddenly, a snowflake fell and landed on his head. Then another and another. The baby squalled even louder. Then the wind picked up and drowned out the baby's cries. A blizzard swirled and howled around the baby and the room he was in turned into the Central Park Tunnel entrance. A man was sitting against the wall, frozen. Then his head turned, pushed by the wind. It was Vincent.

Catherine woke from the nightmare with a gasp and a scream. She began to cry.

"What is it?" Vincent asked in his soft voice. His right arm was tied to his chest in a sling, but he pulled her to his side with his left. "Another nightmare?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "The baby is crying. And there was snow, a storm, in the tunnels. And you!"

"What?"

"You were frozen."

"Shh, Catherine. We are safe. No storm can reach us here."

"The baby?"

"He misses you. We will find him and make up for this lost time. All will be well."

"No, Vincent. I think the worst is yet to come."


	11. Chapter 11

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I had to make a few changes to Chapter 10 in order for 11 to make sense. They are minor, but if you notice inconsistencies here, please reread Chapter 10. Thanks!

Diana received a page from one of the detectives who had caught the Moreno case. She had called him when she heard about it. Since Moreno had been Catherine's boss, it may have something to do with her disappearance. She stopped at a payphone outside Elliot Burch's building to call him.

"Bob, this is Bennett." she said when he picked up the phone. "You got anything for me?"

"Well, yeah. Nothing to connect to Chandler per se, but it connects to one of her connections."

"What?"

"I got a witness who puts Elliot Burch at the scene. He had blood on his clothes."

"Yeah, but the MO? Burch couldn't have done that."

"But we have motive and a witness has him at the scene. I'm getting a search warrant."

"Okay, thanks Bob."

Diana hung up the phone and looked up at the building. "Okay, Mr. Burch. Let's see what you've got."

Diana exited the elevator and marched across the reception area outside of Elliot's private office. "Ma'am, you don't have an appointment." His secretary tried to stop Diana from entering her boss's office.

"I know."

"You'll have to wait," the secretary said, but stopped abruptly as Diana pushed the door open, revealing Elliot standing at the window, staring out blankly and stroking his beard.

"Mr. Burch," Diana said firmly.

Elliot startled and looked up. "It's fine, Amy. Close the door please and hold my calls." Amy shut the door in a huff. Elliot turned to Diana. "How may I help you today, Detective?"

"Tell me what you know about the building Catherine Chandler was held in."

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"Because you're protecting Vincent."

"Who?"

"Come on! Word on my street is you killed Moreno. A search warrant will be issued by this time tomorrow. But you and I know better. The MO matches up with all those mysterious deaths involving Cathy Chandler's cases. My bet is her mysterious protector was Vincent. You're helping him and I need to know what you've got."

"Why should I help you?"

Diana handed him a copy of the note Catherine had sent Joe. He took it and read it silently. "What?" he whispered. He sat down weakly and read it again. "Why did he?" he said softly. When he finally raised his head and looked at her, there were tears in his eyes. "Cathy is alive?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"She had a baby?"

"Yes."

"Where is the baby?"

"I don't know, but you're gonna help me find him." Diana sat down opposite him and shrugged off her coat. She pulled a notebook out of her bag and searched for a pen. "You looked into the owner of that building, right? For Vincent?"

"How do you know all of this?"

"Did you get past the first lines?"

Elliot snorted.

"She sent that note to Joe in a very round about way. She will not be found, not by us. But, we can find her son and if we find him, we can find the guy that did this, the guy that is controlling half of New York City and God knows what else. We can find Gabriel."

"Gabriel?"

"Yeah." Elliot got up and went to his desk. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened a drawer. He pulled some papers from it and began to rifle through them.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"Before Cathy disappeared, she asked me to look at something. Her boss, Joe Maxwell, was given a ledger about some sort of illegal conspiracy taking over the whole damn town. She wanted my help decoding it. I put some people on it, but we only got part way through. I think the name, 'Gabriel' is the key to the rest of it."

"Give me a copy."

"What?"

"Mr. Burch, this is what I do. Let me look at it. Cathy said to pool our resources."

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Okay." Elliot picked up the phone and called his secretary. "Amy?"

After a moment, a quiet knock sounded and one of Elliot's bodyguards opened the door. At his boss's questioning look he said, "Amy is pretty ticked off. I told her to take a break. You're buying her a coffee. Can I help?"

"Yeah. Can you run off a copy of this for Ms. Bennett?"

"Sure." The man took the file and left the room.

"You know," Elliot said. "If this guy doesn't want to be found, he isn't gonna be found."

"That's what they all think, but sooner or later, I find them. I find 'em all."

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Vincent was lying quietly on his bed, half-asleep. It was killing him, lying there helpless, while his child was out there, somewhere, with _him._ He had thought he would feel the baby as he grew and as he became stronger, so would his sense of him. But, it was not. It came in waves that were getting smaller and smaller. Vincent hadn't said anything to Catherine, but he was getting worried. Despite Father's reassurances that the baby was wanted by his kidnapper and would be well-cared for, Vincent worried.

A sudden movement from Catherine startled him out of his dreamlike state. "No!" she shouted and rose up out of the bed. She pushed off the covers and struggled to her feet.

"Catherine?"

"It is here, Vincent! It is here! We must do something. Call the council. Warn the sentries."

"What is it?"

"The storm. It is here! There is a blizzard waging through the tunnels. We must do something." She snatched up her robe quite nimbly for someone still so weak and threw it over her shoulders. "And the baby! Vincent, he is crying."

He struggled up out of bed himself and winced slightly as he felt his stitches pull. He drew her close to him with his good arm. "Catherine, we are safe. No storm can reach us down here."

"No, Vincent! It can! It is coming. I saw it. I saw your death." She began to cry into his chest.

"Shhh, my love," he tried to soothe her. "Let me speak to Father."

"All right."

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Snow had done his research; he was nothing if not thorough. He had returned to the carousel and examined it closely. There were several heavy bloodstains in the center. But there a few drops near the door and then a few drops hidden in the grass several feet away. He followed the trail closely and had come to the drainage pipe. There was some blood on the gate and one drop on the floor beside it. There was no more blood.

Snow had looked at that tape – a creature like that needed somewhere to hide, a lair. When he saw the blood in the drainage tunnel, he knew he had found it. He had outfitted himself well. He had night-vision goggles and sound-magnifying earphones. He dressed completely in black. He had several guns, but also a dart gun, filled with enough tranquilizers to bring down an elephant. Snow would have preferred to just hunt and kill the creature, but Gabriel wanted him alive. Snow thought it was crazy, but bringing in the creature alive was much more of a challenge and really the only reason he had taken on the assignment. And now, he was laying the charges to break down that seemingly solid concrete wall just beyond the gate that he knew was the entrance to finding this creature.

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"Father?"

"Vincent! What are you doing out of bed? Are you trying to give me a heart seizure?" Father struggled out of his chair and went to his son, who was leaning heavily on the wall near the entrance to Father's chamber. Vincent held out his hand, stopping him.

"It is Catherine."

"What?" Father looked concerned.

"She's had that dream again. She says it is beginning."

"What is?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to sense it too."

"Sense what?"

"Unease, instability. Something is wrong."

"Are you sure you aren't just sensing her unease?"

"Yes. Our Bond is still...gone."

"All right. Let me send a message to Pascal. I'll have him put out an all quiet and double-check with the sentries."

"Thank-you, Father. I'm going to check as well."

"Vincent! You are in no condition - "

"Father, I must!"

"Why?"

"Because, Father, I believe that whatever this new danger is, it concerns me and it concerns my child."

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Snow blew open the door and then entered the Tunnels. He was fascinated. They seemed to be man-made in places and well-maintained. Perhaps there were more of this creature. He smiled.

He continued to make his silent way deeper into the earth. Then, he paused, holding a hand to his ear. There was a tapping sound, not water, rhythmic and repeating. He turned towards the sound and walked several more meters down the tunnel. He heard the sound again, louder, and he stopped, examining the wall in front of him. A vent near the floor flipped open and he fired at it, spraying dust and gravel all over. When the gunshot's echos stopped, he heard a young woman screaming. "Well, now they know I'm here," he thought and continued on his way.

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Vincent had heard the explosion. He hurried back to Catherine and guided her to Father's chamber. "Stay here, Catherine, no matter what happens."

"Vincent," she began.

"Stay with Father. Promise me." He held her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. She returned his gaze and then slumped a little, understanding and accepting.

"Yes, I promise."

Vincent shrugged off his sling and gave it to Father. "Gather everyone together. I do not know what this is, but I will stop it."

He turned back to his father and caught his gaze. Father sighed. "I'll re-sew your wounds when you return."

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Snow continued down the corridor. He could hear the girl's sobs and panting as she ran. Following and catching her was almost too easy. When she stopped to catch her breath, he was just around the corner from her. He stood silent and waited. She burst off the wall and ran right into him, falling to the ground. He put the barrel of his gun on her back.

"What was his name? The boy? What was his name!"

She sobbed on the ground. "St- St- Stephen."

"Thank-you. I always learn their names." He paused as if truly committing the name to memory. "And your name?"

"B-Brooke. Brooke."

When Stephen had not responded to Pascal's message twice, he had sent Old Sam to check on him. Sam came around the corner just as Brooke had said her name, Snow twirled and fired at the old man, only armed with a staff. Brooke sprang up and ran off in the other direction. Vincent heard the shots from where he was and roared in protest.

Snow's goggles glowed eerily red in the darkness of the tunnel as he chuckled. "I'm coming."

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Catherine paced Father's library chamber, much like Vincent did when he was agitated or worried. Every now and then, she would stop and lean on a chair to rest. After a moment or two, she would resume her pacing. This is how Father found her when he returned from tending to Brooke.

"Tell me, Catherine," he said quietly from the doorway of the chamber.

"I need to go to him."

"You know that you cannot."

"Father, this is killing me!"

"I know." He entered the chamber and embraced her with his left arm. "But you must stay here it is safe."

"He isn't completely well."

"I know."

"He'll tear his stitches."

"I know."

"My dreams, Father."

"I know, child."

She stood still in his arm, breathing into his shoulder, smelling the smokey disinfectant odor that was unique to Father. He stroked the back of her hair softly. "You must be patient."

"I'll try."

He pulled her back and looked at her face. "You're much better."

"Yes."

"He'll be fine."

"But-" Catherine started.

"He always is."

"I know."

"You're just worried because you love him." She nodded sadly. Father's eyes looked far away as he remembered all the times he had sat in this chamber worrying after his son. "I know."

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It was so ironic it was nearly comical. Vincent silently waited for the hunter to follow him and drew him down, deeper, deeper, through the serpentine, below the wells, into a secret place that only he knew – a place of mists and caverns and cold, thick air. He had taken away the hunter's benefits; first his night-vision goggles, then the sound-magnifying earphones. Now, Vincent had the favor of both sight and sound as well as scent. And he had the home-team advantage. Now _he_ was the hunter, leading _his_ prey into a trap. It didn't take long to fool the hunter into firing at a rock draped with his cloak. And then the walls tumbled down upon him.

He picked up the ring the hunter had taunted him with and realized he had another clue. He carried the hunter's corpse back to the building where he had found Catherine and dumped it on the roof. His shoulder ached and the wound had opened, bleeding into his tunic. He drew a great lungful of air into his chest, raised his arms and cried, "Gabriel! Try again, coward!"


	12. Chapter 12

Gabriel was not happy. One of his underlings had just reported the finding of Snow's body on the helipad of his downtown building. His ring was gone. "Why do people always disappoint me?" He rubbed his hand over his face.

Another one of his men approached tentatively. "Sir?"

"What?" Gabriel snapped.

"Sir, the man we have on Elliot Burch is here."

"Does he have good news?" Gabriel twisted his head to the side, as if trying to dislodge a crick in his neck.

"I believe so, Sir." He motioned another man forward. It was one of Elliot's bodyguards.

"Good evening, Sir," the blond man said.

"Don't bother with pleasantries. Just tell me."

"Yes, Sir. Burch is likely to be arrested for Moreno's murder in the next few days."

"So?" Seriously, was he surrounded by incompetents?

"He was warned tonight by a detective, Diana Bennett. She has been investigating the Catherine Chandler case. She mentioned Vincent. She also knows about the ledger. She and Burch are very close to decoding it."

"And?"

"It is another avenue, Sir."

"Can she produce the creature?"

"She may be able to lead us to him."

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Diana hurried into the Manhattan District Attorney's office the next morning. She had received another note from Catherine. There were no words, just a sketch of a thin, dark man, presumably Gabriel. A heavy gold ring was wrapped in the paper of the sketch. As soon as she had opened the packet and realized what it was, she had called Joe Maxwell, but could not reach him. Then, she had received a somewhat cryptic phone call, summoning her to the District Attorney's office. "What now?" she wondered.

She stopped at reception. "Diana Bennett for the District Attorney," she told the girl sitting at the desk. The girl looked her up and down – taking in her baggy coat and battered tote bag thrown over her shoulder and long red hair in a messy ponytail – and picked up the phone.

"There's a Diana Bennett here for you?" A pause as she listened. "Yes sir." She hung up the phone. "You may go in."

Diana opened the door that was still labeled with John Moreno's name and found a man sitting in the leather desk chair with his back to the door. She cleared her throat and he spun around revealing Joe Maxwell.

"Joe! You?"

"Yeah, it turned out the suspension worked out in my favor. All the dirt turning up on Moreno was as good as a commendation."

"You don't look too happy about this promotion."

"I used to dream of some day sitting behind this desk. Only, I didn't want it to happen this way." He stood up and walked around the desk to stand beside her. "You see, I trusted John Moreno."

"You shouldn't trust anybody. You gotta get used to that feeling. You got no friends in this world, Maxwell."

"I don't believe that."

Diana turned and sat against his desk. He did as well. "Good for you." They looked at each other. "You sent for me?"

"Yeah. I've got to put Cathy and her baby on the back burner. We have to look for Moreno's killer. I'm taking you off Cathy and putting you on John."

"Joe! You can't."

"I have to, Diana. Things have changed."

"I think you and I both know who killed Moreno. Burch all but confirmed it to me last night. We are close to finding Gabriel, Joe. Give me a few more days."

"Diana." He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. "You've got to understand. There's all this political pressure now. I'm not just her friend trying to find the answers anymore. I'm the new DA, at least until the next election."

"Okay," She glanced at the closed door. "Okay, officially, the Chandler case is in limbo – not closed, but nothing new is going on either. Now, I'm working on Moreno. Since we know what happened, I'll make a little noise, but keep working on Cathy. Officially, on my own time."

"Whatever makes you happy. I just have to step back."

"I got a sketch from our source. And a ring. And Burch is close to cracking the code in that ledger of yours that started all of this."

"You both need to be careful. I'm out of it."

"Okay."

"Okay."

They both looked at the door. Then Joe turned to her. "Call me tonight?"

"Yeah."

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Catherine and Vincent spent most of the day in bed, recovering from the previous day's traumas. Father had re-sewn Vincent's wounds and tucked them both in with some of William's healing broth. When Catherine awoke, she was crying. She opened her eyes and saw Vincent's bright azure ones, looking deep into her soul. "Tell me," he said.

"There is no more blizzard or snow or wind. But the baby. He is still crying. He needs...something. He isn't getting what he needs."

"Catherine," Vincent began.

"It is getting critical, Vincent. His cries are weakening. Can you feel anything?"

He levered himself up with his left arm, kissed her brow absently and went to his big chair. He sat down and folded his hands, wincing as he moved his left shoulder. He laid his chin on his hands and closed his eyes. He sat still and silent. Catherine thought about holding her breath, so as not to disturb him. She laid against the pillows and let the tears fall down her cheeks. Suddenly, Vincent opened his eyes and gasped.

"What?" she asked, sitting upright.

"He is so weak, so ill."

"Can you find him?" He shook his head. "Why not?" she demanded.

"He is too weak."

"But, when he was born, you felt him." She climbed out of bed and knelt at his side. He stroked his good hand through her hair, wiped her tears away.

"When he was born, he was strong and undergoing a great trauma. And I thought he was you."

"Vincent, we must find him."

"I cannot do it alone."

"Then how?"

"I do not know."

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Diana had spent the day going to jewelry stores, trying to find information on the ring Catherine had sent her. There was an inscription that began with the word, "Veritas," Latin for "Truth," but the rest could not be deciphered. Every jeweler had told her the ring was old. "Thanks, a lot," she thought.

She sat up late on her couch. Every time the phone rang, it heralded disappointment. Mark had called several times, but she kept putting him off. Finally, she fell into bed, exhausted. At about 1:30, a noise woke her.

Two men, dressed in black, ascended to her building using grappling hooks and entered her apartment through her rooftop garden. One stopped in her kitchen and checked the syringe he carried. They did not notice her on the floor behind the island, clutching her service revolver. As they went to her bedroom, she pushed the button calling the elevator to her floor. It took too long and she went outside. She surveyed the area around her building. There was a black sedan parked at one end of the alley and a cab idling on the other side. She used one of the men's grappling hooks to descend to the ground and then ran to the cab.

"Lady? What the hell are you doing?" the cabbie exclaimed.

"Get out of here!" she shouted and laid down on the back seat. The men chased her, spotted her entering the cab and called to their companions below. A man exited the sedan and fired at the cab, striking the driver. Diana slipped over the front seat, shoved the body out of the way and drove off. The sedan followed and one of the gunmen shot out one of the tires. She crashed into parked cars and slid out of the taxi and saw a diner ahead.

She slid her gun into the waistband of her sweatpants and pulled her shirt over it and took a deep breath. She walked hopefully confidentially into the diner, hoping no one noticed her stocking feet. There were three quarters on the counter. She scooped them into her hand and continued towards the phone booth in the back.

"I'll be with you in just a minute," the waitress called absently over her shoulder.

Diana continued onwards, focused on the phone booth. When she closed the door, a light came on, so she cracked the door back open.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay." She placed one of the quarters into the payphone and dialed Joe's home number from memory.

"Hello?" a voice mumbled.

"Joe? It's me." She looked towards the front door. There was only a thin man mopping the floor.

"Diana?"

"Yeah. I'm in a lot of trouble. Can you come get me?

"Where?" Joe sounded instantly awake.

"I'm at a diner at the corner of Durant and Shapers."

"Durant and Shapers. I'm on my way."

"Hurry." She looked out and saw two men in black entering the diner. She squatted down behind the door of the phone booth.

One of the men approached the waitress at the counter and flashed a badge. "NYPD. We're looking for a white, female suspect. Red hair. Wearing a tee-shirt and sweatpants. Probably is not wearing shoes. You see her?"

"Yeah. She pocketed one of my tips."

Diana sat in the bottom of the phone booth, holding the speaker of the phone against her chest, silently praying.

"Then she just disappeared, up Durant."

"Thank-you," Diana mouthed. Then, the phone began to beep. Joe had hung up, but she hadn't. She let go of the phone and fumbled for her gun. The men turned back and approached the phone booth and kicked in the door. Diana looked up. The man with the fake badge held a female customer against his chest with a gun to her head.

"It's over. We can leave with these people alive. Or we can kill them."

Diana held her gun raised, aiming at the man. At his words, she reluctantly placed her gun between her feet and kicked it across the floor. The other man grabbed her and wrestled her to the black sedan waiting outside.

With her mouth taped, wrists bound and her head covered in a black hood, the men marched her unseeing across the foyer of the opulent mansion and up to the nursery where Gabriel was waiting next to the crib. One of his men snatched off the covering, blinding her for a moment, then snatched off the tape. She refused to wince in pain. When her eyes adjusted, she recognized the man by the crib from the sketch Catherine had sent her.

"Thank-you," Gabriel said. His man stepped backwards and started to close the door. "Beau, gently." The door closed without a sound, leaving Diana alone with Gabriel.

"I wish you hadn't run, Ms. Bennett. You've wasted valuable time."

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Please," he indicated her forward, towards the crib. Unwillingly, she stepped to his side and looked down. "This is my son, Ms. Bennett. He's very beautiful, don't you agree? Look at his hands, his face. There's nothing unusual there." He looked up at her. "I think the resemblance is in the eyes."

"I don't think he looks anything like you." She looked away from the baby, the child she knew to be Catherine's, into the evil man's face.

"Precisely." He held her stare. "The trouble is, he's dying."

Unwittingly, she looked again at the baby in the crib as Gabriel continued. They both looked down at the child. "There is some powerful illness. The doctors don't know how to help him." He looked up, at her face. "I do. And I believe you do too. The child needs his natural..." Diana held her breath. Does he know Catherine is still alive? "Father." Diana breathed again.

"You lost me about two steps back," she said, feeling shaky, but her voice was still steady.

"You're fast, Ms. Bennett. I'll give you that. Unfortunately, I don't have time to play. Maybe a few hours."

"I still don't know what you're talking about." She forced her eyes away from the baby. She couldn't look at him and maintain her aloofness.

"All that matters is that you find him. Find him and tell him: Catherine Chandler's child is dying."

Diana forced herself to look the madman in the eyes. "What proof do I have that is Catherine Chandler's child?"

"You have no proof, Ms Bennett. And the child has no time. Take that message to Vincent."

"And what makes you assume that I can make contact with him?" she asked, scornfully.

Gabriel leaned closer to her. "You'll find a way." He stepped away from her and the baby and went to the door. He opened it and spoke quietly to the man outside in the hallway. Diana turned and looked at him. Her eyes cast down to the marble tiles beneath his Italian leather shod feet. The pattern was different, unique. She placed it in her extraordinary mind for later use.

Thirty minutes later, the black hood was removed from her head by one of Gabriel's underlings. She was in the back of a limousine, racing down the dark streets. He handed her a pair of her own shoes. "Here, put these on." She took them and began to lace the sneakers on her feet. He then handed her a coat. "Take this too. There's money in the pocket." He laid the coat between them on the seat as she finished tying her shoes. He handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. "Call this number to set up the next rendezvous. You are free to go, Ms. Bennett." The limousine pulled over and she got out, pulling the coat closed around her. She felt in the pockets and found the cash folded in there. She looked around and found her bearings. She needed to get to the Wong's and send a message to Catherine and Vincent.

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"Vincent, you can't!"

Her cry pierced his heart, made him stop his preparations. He set his cloak back on the chair and took her hands. "Catherine, I have to. What else can I do?"

"I'll go."

"No!" he growled. "He thinks you're dead. If he finds you are still alive, he'll kill you. I cannot face that possibility. I cannot." He squeezed her hands and then let them go, retrieving his cloak. "I will go."

"Vincent, please. I've been back with you for only a week, seven days. How can I give you up now?"

"We'll lose him if we don't. You read the note. Our son is dying. The doctors that man has doesn't know what is wrong. Modern medicine cannot help. I know, now, what we've felt from him. He needs to be loved. He needs his parents to love him. You carried him, alone, for nine months, and loved him. Now, it is my turn."

"He'll kill you. You'll cure our son and then he'll kill you," she whispered. "How can _I_ live with _that_?"

"By rights, I should have died a thousand deaths by now. But, I am still alive." At his words, Catherine burst into tears. He drew her into his arms. "You've cried enough tears to fill an ocean." He kissed the top of her head. "Knowing you are here, healing and waiting for us, will make me stronger." She cried harder. "I will come back. And I'll bring our son and place him in your arms. And then, my love, you'll cry tears of joy."

She pulled back and looked up at him, her tears glowing bright in the glow of the candles. "You must come back."

"I will."

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As per the instructions sent via the Wong's by Diana, Vincent stood on the helipad of the building where he thought his beloved had died just one short week ago. He heard it first, the beating of the rotor, and then saw it as the helicopter rose above the roof-line of the building and hovered there. Then, the helicopter turned to the side and two men armed with dart guns took aim at Vincent. It took three shots before the darkness over-came him and he collapsed into darkness on to the roof.

When he awoke, he was locked in a cage in what seemed to be a basement. His wrists were bound by manacles chained to the wall and when he groggily made his way to his feet, he touched the bars of the cage. A strong bold of electricity sent him back to the center of the cage. He stood there a moment and looked around. He saw the cameras on the ceiling. He clutched the chains at his wrists and began to pace the cage.

As Gabriel watched from his bank of monitors, Vincent grasped the chains at his wrists and tried to pull them from the wall. Gabriel watched impassively. Vincent resumed his pacing.

Thirty minutes later, Gabriel watched Vincent pacing from the monitor in the nursery. The doctor was re-examining the baby. "Well?" Gabriel asked.

The doctor straightened and removed the stethoscope from his ears. "No change," said the doctor quietly.

"What about the blood tests?"

"I've never seen anything like it. The child is unusual, but his?"

"Try to be more specific, doctor," Gabriel said shortly.

The doctor swallowed. "They share certain similarities, but a transfusion is out of the question."

"Why?"

"The child would die." Gabriel stared at the doctor. The doctor did not blink. Into this silence, the baby began to whimper. Gabriel bent over the crib and picked up the baby.

"What do you suggest?" Gabriel practically spat.

"There's no logical reason for this illness. We've tried every test."

"There's a reason for everything, doctor."

Suddenly, over the monitor, Vincent roared. "Gabriel!" he snarled.

"Do whatever you have to do. Use him, if you need to." At Gabriel's words, the doctor nodded quickly and left the room. Gabriel continued to cradle the baby in his arms.

"He's dying, Gabriel," Vincent continued. "I can feel him dying. Bring him to me. He needs more than my blood; he needs me. Bring him, Gabriel. I can save him." Gabriel turned and watched the monitor, mesmerized.

"Can't you feel it?" Vincent seemed outraged. "He is only your son in life. If he dies, he is mine. Bring him to me. Let him live." Then, Vincent slumped into a corner of the cage. Who even knew if Gabriel heard him and would reply.

An armed guard and a nurse, carrying the baby wrapped in a blue blanket, followed by three more guards descended the stairs into the basement. At their entrance, Vincent sprang to his feet.

"Gene, cut the lights," said the senior officer to the others.

With the lights off, the cage was no longer electrified. One of the guards opened the gate and the nurse gingerly laid the baby in the doorway. Vincent stood there, stunned.

The nurse stepped out quickly, never making eye contact with Vincent. The guards closed and locked the gate and then one of them turned the electricity back on. The hum along the wires burned in Vincent's ears. The baby was whimpering in his blanket. When the others were gone back up the stairs, Vincent approached the blanket. He pulled it away from the child's face and looked upon his son for a few awe-filled moments. Then, he gently lifted the child in his arms and sat back with him against one of the stone walls of the cage. The child quieted and looked intently upon his father.

"Catherine," Vincent whispered. "He _is_ beautiful."

**Author's Note: **Please note that the majority of this chapter is from the episode _Chimes at Midnight_.


	13. Chapter 13

Vincent held his son for the rest of the night. They simply looked at each other, entranced. The baby cooed and gurgled from time to time, but mostly he was silent and stared adoringly at the man he knew to be his father. For that time, Vincent didn't care that he was chained up in a cage. He didn't care how Catherine and Father must be worried. He didn't care about the pain in his healing shoulder. All he could concentrate on was the beauty of his son in his arms. He could feel him, feel the strength returning into his tiny body.

And so he startled when Gabriel spoke, his voice coming out of the darkness. Vincent hadn't even noticed him descending the stairs.

"His name is Julian," the silky voice said. Vincent stood up smoothly, the chains rattling. He held his son firmly and looked at his captor defiantly. "Some names have power," Gabriel continued. "You know that, don't you? 'Vincent.' 'Conqueror.'" He paced the two open sides of the cage, letting the keys dangle loosely in his hand, taunting Vincent. "Ordinary men write their names in water. There are some though, a few of each generation, who are stronger than the rest. They write their names in blood." Gabriel stopped and looked at Vincent. "My son will be a man like that."

"Gabriel," Vincent's voice held a note of pity. "You have no son."

Gabriel's normally impassive face faltered a moment. Then, he lowered his eyebrows and wrinkled his brow as if to say, "I'm in charge, here." He went to the intercom box mounted on the wall and pressed the buzzer. The door to the stairs opened and the doctor, the nurse and two armed men entered.

Gabriel spoke only to the other men. He didn't spare Vincent or the baby a glance. "It has been long enough. Remove the child."

The guards and the doctor stared at the beast, cradling the baby, frightened. "Do it," Gabriel said firmly.

The doctor stepped forward with his own set of keys as one of the guards cut off the electricity. His hands shook, rattling the keys as he bent to open the cage. Vincent snarled and showed his teeth. The baby remained quiet and peaceful in his arms. The doctor sprang back, but Gabriel didn't bat an eyelash. "Lucas. Reed," was all he said in his quiet, silky voice.

The guards cocked their weapons and aimed them at Vincent. He startled and held the baby tighter. Gabriel's eyebrows flicked and he stepped closer to the cage, leaned in, as if he was speaking confidentially to Vincent. "I want the child. The doctor wants another blood sample. If you resist, they'll fire. But not at you. Do we understand each other?"

Shock was plain on Vincent's face as he lowered the child from his shoulder. "Do it," Gabriel said again and went upstairs. The doctor bent again to the lock and opened the cage. The nurse entered first, more curious that frightened. The doctor shook and sweated behind her. The nurse approached him as Vincent pressed a kiss to the baby's brow and handed him to her. She turned and quickly passed by the doctor. The baby began to cry as she left the basement dungeon.

Vincent looked at the guards, still standing impassive with their weapons raised. He stared at the doctor, who was still visibly shaking and breathing hard. Vincent took pity on him and stepped back. He sat down, extended his arm and turned away. He could still hear his son, crying, as he was taken back up the stairs.

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After sending her message at the Wong's, Diana returned to her apartment building. She watched it from across the street as the sun rose above the skyscrapers and illuminated the windows of her home. The black sedan that had chased her to the diner remained parked outside. There was a cab idling around the corner. He apartment seemed empty, but she couldn't be sure. Decision made, she left and went to a payphone on a busy corner. She put in a quarter and dialed.

"Office of the District Attorney," an emotionless female voice answered.

"I need to speak to Joe Maxwell."

"Who is calling, please?"

"I'm Detective Diana Bennett. I'm with the police department. It is an emergency."

"Hold please."

Diana turned and looked out one side of the booth and then the other, nervous about standing in a glass booth, exposed. People milled about, but Gabriel's men could be anyone. Finally, another voice came on to the phone. It was a man.

"Joe Maxwell's office," he said.

"Who are you? Where's Joe?"

"He's tied up in court. Can I help you? I can send someone to pick you up."

"Damn!" Diana slammed to phone back on the hook. She shouldn't be surprised. Joe had only been on the job for a day. He couldn't clean the whole house that quickly. She left the phone booth and began walking in the crowd, trying to think. Who could she turn to? Suddenly she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the glares sent her way by the ordinary people hurrying to work. "Burch." She turned around and went back in the other direction. She didn't notice the cab following her.

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Catherine had tried to go back to sleep after Vincent had left, but she had strange dreams and was restless. She arose after only being back in bed for a couple of hours. She found Father in his study.

"Catherine, you're up early. Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, Father. I just couldn't sleep." She slid into the chair opposite him at his table. He laid his book aside.

"You should try, child. You need to regain your strength."

"I know." She took a deep breath. "Father, Vincent went Above last night."

"Above? Why? He still isn't fully recovered either." Father's brow furrowed and she could see the beginnings of "worst case scenarios" forming in his head. She doubted he would have ever considered this one.

"We received a message from Diana Bennett. Gabriel contacted her. Our son is sick and he thinks he needs his parent. Since I'm supposed to be dead, Vincent went."

"How is Vincent to find this man? Isn't that the problem you are working on?"

"Diana said he should go to the roof of the building where he found me and Gabriel would meet him there."

"He exposed himself to this man?"

"Yes."

"Well, he is as good as captured. God knows what will happen now!" Father rose and began to pace jerkily around his chamber. Catherine had always thought of it as Vincent's habit, but he must have picked it up from his parent.

"Father," Catherine said, trying to get the old man's attention. "I tried to sleep, but the dreams I had were horrible."

"Tell me," Father said. He came to her and sat back down, taking her hands in his. "Tell me."

"Vincent is trapped, in a cage. He is sitting in the center of it, brooding. His face is full of pain, of despair, or hopelessness. And there is a baby crying. It is loud at first, but it gets quieter, then stops." She held his hands tighter. "I'm afraid, Father, that he went there to save our son, but now he is trapped and cannot escape. And the baby..." She shook her head.

"Well, he can't have been gone long, Catherine. You shouldn't worry."

"Don't try to placate me, Father! You don't know this man, what he is capable of! He kept me away from Vincent, from everyone I knew, for six months! No one could find me and he nearly killed me. Heaven knows how many others he had killed! He owned the District Attorney! He was essentially above the law. If he wants to keep Vincent in a cage and show him like a side-show in a carnival, he will. If he wants to torture him or study him or just keep him in a dark room, he will. He can do anything he wants. And if Vincent cannot escape, he will be his prisoner forever."

"Or until he becomes expendable."

"Yes."

"We must find him." Catherine nodded at his words. Then he asked her, "Diana Bennett was at this Gabriel's house?"

"Yes."

"Then, we must find her."

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Diana walked down the crowded streets towards Elliot's building. Everyone was in a hurry, going to work, running errands or just going somewhere. No one looked at her twice, but she felt like she stood out. Gabriel's men must know by now she wasn't going back to her apartment and had to be looking for her. She knew that if Gabriel wanted her dead, he had plenty of resources to see it was done. She tried to keep walking forward, purposeful, and not keep looking around and behind her.

The heavy-set cabbie was idling on the street. "I've got her. She's going north down Amsterdam," he spoke into a clunky walkie-talkie.

Another man, thin and tall with a mustache, pushing a broom on the sidewalk answered from a similar walkie-talkie he pulled from his mop bucket. "Copy that. I see her."

The cab pulled away from the curb and drove off. "Let me know where she's going."

"You got it."

Diana didn't notice the cab or the black sedan following him as they both pulled into the heavy morning traffic.

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Gabriel sat in his office, watching Vincent on the monitors. He was simply sitting, looking around the room, but mostly just sitting. The doctor entered.

"Do you think he sleeps?" Gabriel asked him.

"Well, surely he must," the doctor answered.

Gabriel reluctantly turned away from his desk and faced the doctor, standing nervously in front of him. "Well?"

"The results are the same. A transfusion is not possible."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm very disappointed, doctor. If my son dies..."

"He's getting stronger." Gabriel sat up, surprised as the doctor continued. "His fever has broken and he's taken some formula. I can find no reason for it. It must be some sort of spontaneous remission, or the illness has simply run its course."

"No," Gabriel said, pointing at the monitors. "It's him!" He pushed back from his desk and stood up, went out of the room, the doctor trailing behind him.

Gabriel entered the basement. When Vincent saw him, he jumped up with a low roar and reached through the bars for him. The electricity coursed through his arm and forced him back on to the floor. He shook his head, then looked up at his captor with a snarl.

"I thought you'd like to know," Gabriel began.

"My son is recovering," Vincent interrupted. "I feel it." He sat up. "I feel him."

"Hm," Gabriel said, then turned away. Then, he stopped and turned back, reaching into his pocket. He threw a ring on to the floor of the cage. "I thought you'd like to have this back, now that the woman is dead."

Vincent looked up at him with steely eyes and Gabriel left the basement, leaving the doctor behind. The doctor stood looking at Vincent and then tentatively spoke. "May I ask?"

Vincent cocked his head to the side. The doctor continued. "How did you do it? How did you cure him?"

"The child has wanted for nothing here. He is warm and fed. But he has not known love since the day of his birth. Simply, I love him, and he knows it."

The doctor looked puzzled, as this explanation did not fit any of his scientific precepts. Then he nodded his head and left the room as well.

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Diana continue down the street towards downtown among the crowds of New Yorkers. She looked over her shoulder and noticed a taxicab following her about a half a block behind on the other side of the street. She stopped at a newsstand and pretended to look over the day's headlines. When she checked again, she was certain. She left the newsstand and walked briskly, but nonchalantly. She reached an alley and suddenly turned and ran down it.

The driver of the cab spoke into his walkie-talkie. "I think she spotted me. She went into an alley." He sped across three lanes of traffic and drove into the alley, parking at an angle to make escape more difficult.

Diana ran to the end of the alley. It was blocked by a high wooden fence that she could not climb or go through. She grabbed it and shook it in anger. "Damn!" she cried.

"Don't be afraid," the cabbie called.

Suddenly, the thin man with the brooms ran into the alley and stopped near the cabbie. "Is it her?"

The driver exited his cab and started to walk towards her. "Yes," the cabbie said to the broom man. To Diana, he called, "We didn't mean to scare you. You're just hard to get a hold of."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Someone wants to see you." the thin man answered her. "We couldn't get a hold of you so we went looking."

"Who wants to see me? Gabriel?" she asked, defiantly.

"No, Catherine."

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Diana stood in amazement around the tunnel hub just past the Central Park entrance. The door still had not been repaired, but it was the easiest entrance to get access to quickly. The cabbie and the mustached man were met by two others, an older man and a younger girl.

The older man spoke. "We are sorry if we frightened you. We never meant you harm."

Diana asked, "Who are you?"

"When I lived in your world, I was known as Jacob Wells. Everyone here calls me Father," he answered. "Vincent is my son."

"We're his family," the young girl said.

"His friends," the mustached man added.

"Do you all live down here?"

"Well, some of us," Father replied. "Last night, you sent a message to Vincent. It said that Catherine's former captor wanted him – their son was ill."

Diana stood, silent.

"Please," Father continued. "If you know where he is..."

At the worried look in Father's eyes, Diana relented. "Yes, I sent a message to him from Gabriel. He said his son was sick. Maybe even dying."

There was a gasp from the shadows behind the young girl.

"Who's there?" Diana asked, instantly on guard again.

"You needn't fear me," a woman's voice said quietly as she emerged from the tunnel. "And, I have wanted to meet you." She stepped into the light.

"Catherine," Diana breathed.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I know Vincent went to our son and I know he hasn't been gone long, but I am worried. I believe he cannot escape the place he is being held alone. I fear I will lose them both. I need your help."

"Gabriel has men inside the police department. They are everywhere. I don't know who to trust. They took my gun, my badge is back at my loft." Father bent and whispered in the girl's ear and she raced back down the tunnel Catherine had emerged from. Diana continued. "I have no money, no clothes. They've completely cut me off. If they find me, they'll kill me."

"You still trust Joe?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, but he was just appointed the new DA and Gabriel still has men in the office."

"What about Elliot Burch?" Father asked.

"Actually, I was trying to reach him. I have a clue to where Gabriel is holding Vincent and the baby."

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"I was blindfolded all the way to Gabriel and most of the time in the house. But, I saw the baby."

"Is he all right?" Catherine asked, her brow wrinkling in concern.

"He looked a bit pale, but he was kicking his legs."

"The clue?" Father asked.

"It is a floor tile. The pattern is very unusual and the tiles looked very old. If we can find the tile, we can find Gabriel."

"Elliot should be able to help you," Catherine said.

The girl came running back with an object wrapped in a cloth in her hand. "Thank-you, Jamie," Father said. He looked at Catherine and she nodded. He took the parcel from Jamie and gave it to Diana.

"This was Catherine's gun. She gave it to us during a time of great danger here in the tunnels. Now, the danger is above."

Diana opened the chamber and noted it was loaded. She closed it again and put it in her pocket. "Thank-you."

"Contact us when you get to Elliot's," Catherine said.

"We'll be close by," the cabbie smiled.

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Vincent sat on the floor of his cage, rolling the ring between his thumb and forefinger. Was Diana really dead? He thought for a moment of the type of man he thought Gabriel was. He jumped up and addressed one of the cameras at the ceiling. "Gabriel."

Elsewhere in the house, seated at a desk with a bank of monitors on it, Gabriel watched his captive. At the sound of his voice, he pressed a button and replied. "I'm here, Vincent."

"I can feel your eyes on me."

"Does that make you uneasy?" Gabriel asked with a smirk.

Vincent bowed his head, but didn't answer. Instead he said, "I can feel my son, too." He raised his head and looked at the camera again. "Our bond grows stronger, Gabriel."

Gabriel said quietly, "There's only one bond that counts. I gave this child life."

Vincent stepped closer to the camera he was addressing and said, "Catherine gave him life."

"I kept her alive for months when a word would have ended it. I was there when Julian was born. When he opened his eyes for the first time, he looked at _me_." On the monitor, Vincent turned away. "He's mine."

Vincent looked back up. "He'll never be yours. Hour by hour, minute by minute, our bond grows. And there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"Your death would stop it," Gabriel smiled.

"'Death shall have no dominion.'"

"Tell that to Catherine Chandler," he chuckled.

"She knew it. Even at the end, she knew it."

Frustrated, Gabriel turned off the monitor. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands under his chin. Somehow aware that the conversation had ended, Vincent sat back on the floor of the cage.

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Elliot was in a meeting with his lawyer and it was not going well. Elliot looked terrible. His tie was undone and he had unbuttoned his cuffs and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. His desk was littered with paperwork.

"Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?" the lawyer asked. "It's over."

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm going to recommend that we file for Chapter Eleven immediately." He stood up. "Maybe I'll still be able to salvage something."

Elliot looked at his lawyer with a shocked expression. He looked completely defeated, but then he straightened up and squared his shoulders. "He's done this. Gabriel. The thing is, we've got to find him."

"Find him? You can't even prove that he exists." He picked up his briefcase and turned to go. "Elliot, you don't need a lawyer. You need a shrink." Then, he turned and left the office.

Elliot went behind his desk and slumped in his chair. He was startled by a soft tap on his door and looked up to see Diana entering. "Hi," she said, closing the door. She approached the desk and took in his expression and disheveled appearance. "You look like hell." She sat down opposite him.

He looked at her. "You do too. What happened?"

She leaned forward and clasped her hands. "I got to meet Gabriel last night. I saw the baby."

"What?"

"Yeah, a couple of his goons kidnapped me, took me out to his house. He wanted me to contact Vincent. He says the baby is sick and he thinks he needs his natural father."

"Did you?"

"What?"

"Contact Vincent? Did he go out there?"

"I sent a note."

"Jesus."

"Elliot, I need your help."

"Why?"

"Cause Gabriel's men are staking out my apartment. I think that now I've served my purpose, I'm expendable and I'm not too excited about it." She stood up and paced, her coat flapping around her. "I tried to contact Joe at the DA's office, but Gabriel still has people there. I have to give him some information."

"I don't think I can help you. Gabriel just bankrupted me and the former DA just tried to kill me a few days ago." He watched her pace in silence. "Wait. Who is the new DA?"

"Joe."

"Joe?"

"Yeah." She stopped pacing. "Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil I can borrow?"

"Sure." He fumbled in a drawer and handed her the items. She sat back down and began to draw. "You are a really bizarre person, you know that?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Burch," she snapped throwing down the pencil. "I spent all day yesterday looking at a ring that belonged to a guy who worked for Gabriel who tried to kill Vincent and I spent a lot more time on your ledger and I got nowhere with both. I got maybe an hour of sleep before I was kidnapped for a little tete a tete with a madman. Now, I'm running for my life. I've got a clue rolling around in my head and I'm trying to get it down on paper. You can stop with the little commentary and try to figure out a way to get in touch with Joe!" She retrieved the pencil and began to draw again.

"Okay, Jesus. I just found out that our madman has just destroyed all of my dreams. My entire company is destroyed and I have to start sending out pink slips!"

"B-o-o. H-o-o." She continued to sketch furiously. He rolled his eyes.

"What is that?" he asked as the design began to take shape under her pencil.

"It's a floor tile from Gabriel's hallway."

"You don't know where the house is?"

"I was blind-folded. But we drove for a short while, took a helicopter and then drove again. If I can get this to Joe, then maybe we can figure out where the house is and then he can storm it with cops, if he can find enough that aren't crooked."

Elliot pushed the buzzer on his intercom. "Amy!"

"Yes, Mr. Burch?"

"Come in, please." He stood up and began to roll his sleeves back down and do up his cuffs. He was starting to re-tie his necktie when the door opened. Diana finished up her drawing. "Amy, my lawyer did not have good news for me. I'm going to have to file for bankruptcy."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You've done good work for me. Can you do one more thing before I have to let you go? I can give you a little bonus before the wolves get in the door."

"Certainly, sir."

"I need you to walk into the DA's office and personally deliver a note to Joe Maxwell. He's the new DA. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay," he said. "Five minutes." She left the office as Elliot took up another piece of paper and gave it to Diana. "Okay, write this down."

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After Diana contacted Joe from the diner, no one heard from her. Joe called her apartment and her watch commander after arriving at the diner she had called him from and finding it empty. No one had heard from her. He spoke personally to the waitress who had tried to help her. He had some cops he trusted looking into her disappearance, but they hadn't come up with anything. He had finally called the Wongs to see if they had heard from her. They told her of the message she had given them.

"But that was at about 5:30 this morning, Mr. Maxwell. Haven't you heard from her since then?" Lin asked, concerned.

"No. I have no messages here at the office and no one tried to call me at home."

"Well, if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"Thanks." Joe hung up the phone and rubbed his face. He had eight thousand things going on and he did not want to add Diana Bennett to the list. He picked up his coffee cup and then set it down with a huff after finding it empty. He was about to page his secretary when there was a knock at the door. "Yeah?" he called.

The door opened and Amy, Elliot Burch's secretary, entered. She closed the door behind her. "Are you Joe Maxwell?"

"Yep. And you are?"

She handed him the note her boss had given her. "I am now the former employee of Elliot Burch. He said to give that to you personally. He said it was from a mutual friend and to be careful."

He took the note and glanced over it, betraying nothing on his face regarding its contents. He looked up at her. "What's your name?" She told him. "Well, Amy, things are a little crazy around here right now 'cause we're undergoing a bit of a shake up. In a couple of weeks, I'm probably going to need some new people in the secretary pool. Are you a good typist?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. I'll contact you when I can. Will you be okay until then?"

"Yes sir. Mr. Burch is a generous employer."

"Okay, thanks." She recognized her dismissal and left his office. Joe punched the buzzer on his desk. "Maggie? I need Greg Hughes on the phone ASAP. And have Harris, Jonesboro and Callahan get in here. And, oh yeah? Can you get me some coffee?"

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Gabriel marched down the hall with his underling trailing him. "I told him she was dead. Are you making a liar out of me?"

"It is just a matter of time, sir."

"When it's over, bring her here. I want him to see. I want him to learn." He continued marching down the hallway.

Vincent jumped up as Gabriel and two gunmen entered the basement. He stood straight and defiant with his hands loose at his sides. Gabriel stopped between the gunmen and looked at Vincent. After a moment, he began to speak.

"We have so much in common. We could have been great friends." He turned away and said, almost under his breath. "Fire."

The gunmen shot several times into the cage, wincing with each retort. When the noise ended, Gabriel looked into the cage. Vincent was standing just as he had been, straight and tall, looking directly at Gabriel with an impassive look on his face.

"Leave us," Gabriel said to the gunmen. When they were gone, he came closer to the bars of the cage. "It doesn't have to end that way. Even enemies can join hands. I have so much to offer you. Your life. Your freedom?"

"Nothing you can give me can replace what you took."

"Love?"

"You don't know the meaning of love."

Gabriel looked down and then sighed. "Julian needs both of us."

Vincent cocked his head to the side and spoke slowly, as if teaching an especially slow child. "My son needs nothing from you. You have nothing to give."

Gabriel frowned and looked around the basement, confused. "I can protect him. I can show him the way the world works. The real world. I can make him a king." He smirked, knowing Vincent could never offer Julian any of those things.

"I've seen your kingdom. It's a kingdom of shadows. It's a kingdom of death."

"It's our kingdom, Vincent. Remember?" he nearly shouted, pulling a remote control from his pocket. He flicked a button and a video began to play of Vincent attacking and fighting his was through the guards when he tried to reach Catherine while she was kidnapped.

"Julian will see this someday. It is important a boy knows who his father is." He chuckled and went back upstairs.

The screams and growls filled the silence. The images played on both walls of the cage. It was terrible. Vincent clutched his head and tried to turn away from the awful sounds, but it was everywhere. He paced frantically, searching for escape, but none was there. He tried backing into a corner, but the images and sounds penetrated his mind. He was appalled at what he saw, angered when he remembered why it was necessary. He needed to escape. He needed Catherine. Desperate, he grasped at the bars of the door of the cage and tried to open it, but the electric shocks sent him back, again and again. Finally, exhausted with his hands burnt and pained, he collapsed on the floor of the cage as the sounds and images swept over him, like a tide.


	14. Chapter 14

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **If you are recognizing dialogue in Chapters 13 and 14 from the episode, _Invictus,_ you are correct. 

Diana stood off to one side in the Museum of Natural History, watching the school groups with their teachers and the old ladies examining the giant skeletal statues of the lizards that had once ruled the earth. She saw a single man in a trench coat walking among the groups and the displays. He obviously wasn't there for the culture. He was looking for someone, and it turned out, she was looking for him.

She saw Joe, but he didn't see her and she had to cross a large lobby with a Tyrannosaurus Rex in the middle of it. She glanced around again.

It was hard, being out in the field like this. Usually, she gathered her evidence and brought it back to her loft, let it simmer in her mind until the answer came. This was unusual circumstances, to say the least. In the last twenty-four hours, she had gotten no sleep, had been terrorized and kidnapped, returned, sent on what seemed to be a fool's errand, was being chased again and was now trying to find the guy who had kidnapped her. She wasn't on top of her game.

She didn't see anyone who looked unusual or out-of-place, but it was a big lobby and there were side rooms and chambers of smaller exhibits off of it where anyone could casually wait. She took a deep breath. She had to take a leap of faith. She left her safe corner and began to cross the lobby.

What happened next, was a blur. She was about half-way across and about to call to Joe when a tall, older man in a black coat approached her. He grabbed her with his left hand, the reached under that arm with his right and pulled his gun out. He pressed it into her back without its being seen.

"Come along with me; we don't want a scene."

Diana's nerves were stretched so thin that it didn't take much adrenaline for her to attempt a struggle. "Let me go," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Now, now, lady," the man began before he tripped over a mop that had been shoved under his feet. His stumble caused him to lose his grip and Diana tried to twist away. The noise caused Joe to look up and see Diana. He hurried over.

"What's a matter, lady? This guy buggin' ya?" The cabbie from the Tunnels approached and intervened his belly between Diana and the man.

"Yeah, you okay, ma'am?" the mop-wielder asked. He was the thin, moustached man with the broom.

"No, she's fine. She needs to come with me." The gunman tried to regain control of the situation.

"Hey, Bennett!" Joe called as two security guards approached the scene that was precariously close to the dinosaur statue.

"What's going on?" one of the guards asked.

The cabbie said, "This guy's botherin' the nice lady."

"No," the gunman said, desperately trying to replace his gun.

"Yeah, he was. And he's got a gun." Diana added. The security guards noticed this and went to either side of the man, each grabbing an arm. One of them plucked the gun out of his hand.

Joe flashed his badge. "I'm Joe Maxwell, with the DA's office. Can you call the police and hold this man until they show up?"

"Certainly, sir." The guards took the gunman away.

"You okay?" Joe asked Diana.

"Yeah," she said and then turned to her two unlikely protectors. "Thanks," she mouthed.

"Who are you guys, anyway?" Joe asked.

"Us?" the cabbie asked.

"We just love dinosaurs," the thin man said as they both faded into the crowd.

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Vincent lay on the floor of the cage. The film continued to play over him, but he had become somewhat immune to it. After trying to escape the cage and being burned and thrown back by the electricity in the bars again and again, he finally stayed down on the floor. He was thinking. He didn't regret coming to Catherine's aid. In the situations he had been in, it was kill or be killed. He regretted having to kill, but he couldn't regret helping his love.

He raised a hand up and studied it. He extended his fingers, examining the claws. Then he closed his fist. He looked up at the wall and watched the images flashing on it. He had slashed at the guards, causing massive trauma and bleeding. That is usually what he did, he struck out instinctively in fear or anger. He looked again at his fist. He raised his other hand and struck it with his fist. He did it again, harder. And again.

Suddenly, the images and sounds that had so tormented him stopped. In their place were flashing pictures of the baby. He was kicking his legs randomly and cooing. He looked directly at the camera, as if he knew his father was watching him.

"See?" came the silky voice out of the darkness. "_I_ can be merciful."

Vincent dropped his hands, instantly wary. He remained lying on the floor. Gabriel was staring in at him, holding a set of keys. "Better?" he smirked. He handed the keys to the doctor. "We need more blood."

The doctor took the keys and they rattled in his hand. Suddenly, he dropped them. "Lucas, the doctor needs help."

One of the guards took the keys and opened the cage for the doctor. He stepped inside. Vincent remained lying on the floor. The doctor set down his bag and began to ready Vincent's arm for a blood draw.

Gabriel looked up at the images of the baby on the walls. "If you hadn't come to me, Julian might have died. I owe you a life." Gabriel moved to the side of the cage nearest the door, still looking up at the baby cooing. "Look at him, Vincent." Vincent turned his head away in disgust, resigned to whatever this madman was going to do next. Undeterred, Gabriel continued. "Isn't he beautiful? Catherine saw he was beautiful too." He looked down at Vincent on the floor and just as the doctor placed the syringe in his vein, he said, "I let her hold him, just as long as I could." Vincent looked up at the doctor's sweaty head and then at Gabriel, knowing he was lying. Catherine hadn't even been allowed to touch the baby, let alone hold him. "I'm sorry about Catherine. She must have been a very special person." Vincent turned away, refusing to reveal his emotions to either of them. Gabriel turned off the film of the baby and an eerie silence filled the dungeon. "Of course, it was the doctor who killed her."

The now full syringe dropped to the ground and broke, spilling Vincent's blood on the floor. The doctor turned and stared at Gabriel in fear. Vincent snarled, low in his throat. "What was it you used?" Gabriel asked. "Morphine? Well, at least the end was painless." Vincent sat up, staring at this doctor, this pawn, who had forgone his oath to "first do no harm" and had nearly killed his love. He stood and growled again.

The doctor stood and backed into a corner of the cage. "No, no. It wasn't me."

"That's not very convincing, doctor."

Vincent took a step towards him. The doctor turned and tried to open the door of the cage, but found it locked. "Please." He clung to the bars for a moment and then screamed, "You told me to kill her! You told me!" He lunged towards Gabriel, stopped by the bars. "You made me do it!" He turned back to Vincent. "I didn't want to do it. I swear to you." He was panting and shaking and sweating even more.

"A life for a life," Gabriel said quietly from the shadows. "His life is yours."

Vincent looked at Gabriel, understanding dawning. The doctor sunk to his knees and extended a hand towards Vincent. "Please. Please have mercy," he cried.

"Catherine begged for mercy, too."

Despite himself, Vincent growled again, louder. The doctor sank to the floor, sobbing.

"Go on. Do it," Gabriel egged him on. "Do it for her. Do it. Kill him!" Vincent growled again, louder. Then Gabriel's face caught the corner of his eye. He saw his glee, his excited anticipation of what was about to come and Vincent stopped.

"No."

Gabriel's face fell. He looked outraged, shocked that one such as Vincent, who claimed to love Catherine, would not revenge himself on her killer. He was genuinely appalled. Vincent turned and walked to the opposite corner as the doctor and leaned against the wall. He took a deep, calming breath and looked at the floor. The doctor continued to cry.

Disgusted, Gabriel tossed the keys to one of the guards. "Get him out of there!"

The door opened and the doctor slowly rose to his feet and stumbled out of the cage. He leaned back against the outside of it and wiped his face and head with his handkerchief.

"Vincent!" Gabriel called. As Vincent looked up, Gabriel gestured to one of the guards who fired at the doctor. He groaned, then slid to the floor, dead.

"I always pay my debts!"

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Joe and Diana walked among the dinosaurs, talking quietly.

"Elliot thought it was an imported floor tile, marble, very old and rare. He knows a guy who deals with imported flooring who was gonna check it out."

"I've faxed copies of what you sent me all over the city." Joe's pager went off. "It's the office."

They moved over to a bank of payphones and Joe dialed. Diana looked around nervously as he made his phone call.

"All right, I got it. Thanks, a lot, Burch. Listen, we're gonna move fast on this. You're already on this guy's bad list so you'd better disappear for a while. Okay. I'll let her know. Uh-huh. G'bye."

Joe hung up the phone and put another quarter in and dialed again. "Hi, it's Maxwell. Give me Greg Hughs." While he was waiting he said to Diana, "Burch came through. The tiles are Italian-made, turn of the century. They cost a fortune. Burch's guy gave us a list of addresses." He handed the list to her and she began to look through it. "Burch is getting out of town, now." She looked up surprised, then nodded slowly. He returned to the phone call. "Hey, Greg, we got the list narrowed down. We are going to need to move fast. Get the commissioner on the horn and meet me at my office in ten minutes. Yeah, she's here. She's looking at it now. I'll have a solid when I get back. Yep. Bye." Joe hung up the phone and turned to Diana.

"Montauk. Staten Island. Westchester. The rest are all Manhattan." She flipped the list and rubbed her head.

"Yeah. So?"

She looked up at him. "The chopper flew over water. Montauk Point is too far. It has to be Staten Island."

"Okay, let's go," Joe tried to lead her out of the museum. She stopped him.

"Joe, this guy is going to have an army waiting for you. It is going to take you hours to get organized and by that time, he's gonna know you're coming." She handed the list back to Joe and began to walk away from him.

"What are you going to do?"

Diana stopped and looked at him, her fatigue vanishing. Things didn't seem quite as hopeless anymore. "Whatever I can."

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Vincent paced his cage in a circle, unconsciously stepping over the puddle of blood that had drained from the doctor's dead body, slumped against one of the barred walls of the cage. He felt stronger, felt his lungs taking in more oxygen, his heart beating faster and more efficiently. He opened and shut his hands. Something was happening. There was unrest in the house and the baby could feel it. Vincent could feel it in his son. Something was happening and he had to be ready.

As he clenched his fists again, his claws bit into his palms. He paused and looked at his hands again. He had always thought of himself as two beings – a man and a beast. He had allowed the beast to come out when Catherine or those he loved needed protection. He had preferred to think that it was his human side that loved Catherine, but lying on the floor of the cage, with those images washing over him, he had realized that he wasn't two people, two personalities. He had separated his feelings from his thoughts. When he was frightened or angry or passionate, he stopped thinking and just did what felt right. Afterwards, he allowed himself to think over his actions and he had often felt shame and guilt. What if he could keep his thoughts in order while the feelings were washing over him? He could "tame the beast" and merge the two sides of himself.

He shook his head and resumed his pacing. There was time enough to think of all of this later. Now, he must be ready. Something was going to happen.

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Around the corner from the museum, the helper's taxicab picked up Diana. Father was sitting in the car, dressed in a carefully preserved but hopelessly outdated suit and fedora. Across his lap, he held several hand-drawn maps. Crammed into the corner next to him was a small figure dressed in a skirt and an over-sized hooded sweatshirt. The figure's head was pressed into the back of the hood and only the eyes, covered in sunglasses were showing.

Diana put her hand in her pocket and fingered Catherine's gun. "Who's this?" she asked, nervously.

The figure answered, "It's me." Diana recognized Catherine's voice and got in the cab. The cabbie turned off his light and melted into the traffic. "What are you doing here? I thought we decided it was too dangerous for you to come Above."

"If you think I'm going to sit quietly Below while strangers help my love and find my child, you've got another think coming," Catherine whispered fiercely. "Vincent has saved me countless times. I'm going to help."

"As you can imagine, arguments were futile," Father said. "Do you have the address?"

Diana chuckled. This lady was a lot like her. No wonder Joe was half in love with her. Diana was beginning to admire her more and more. "Yeah, it is on Staten Island. Can we get him out?"

The taxicab meandered the streets of downtown New York as the three looked over the maps.

"What about sewer lines?" Diana asked.

Father drew a line with his thumb. "You could follow the old Kastan line. It leads you right to... Oh, no it doesn't. It does not go right through!"

Catherine leaned over. "What is that?"

"Yeah, it goes right over the wall," Diana added.

"That is just an old steam conduit. It is inactive now, but it is merely a pipe!"

"Would I fit?" Catherine asked.

"Would I?" Diana echoed.

"Barely." Father shook his head. "And even if you did, how would Vincent?"

"Here, Father," Catherine pointed. "What about this? We could go through here." She pointed to the steam pipe. "If we could open this on the other side of the wall," she pointed again. "He could get out there and then get back to the main tunnels via the Kastan line."

"It might work," he mused.

"It has to," Diana said.

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Gabriel watched Vincent pacing from his study on the monitors. One of his underlings entered the room. "He's growing stronger," Gabriel commented idly.

"Maxwell's organizing a raid," the underling said. "We must evacuate, the sooner the better."

Gabriel gestured to the man, impatiently. "You handle the boat."

"I've ordered a helicopter. And your Lear jet is standing by for you at Kennedy." The underling left Gabriel's side and leaned over the top of the monitors.

"Look at him," Gabriel pointed. "Those bars are tungsten steel." The underling moved from in front of Gabriel to his other side. "Order another generator, in case of emergencies, if the current should fail."

"Just kill him, and let's go before the police come."

"I'm not worried about police."

"Forgive me, sir, but which of you is the captive here?"

Gabriel watched as Vincent continued to pace and look up at the cameras. "In ancient days," he began quietly. "Men ate the hearts of fallen heroes, hoping that their power and strength would pass into them. On cold battlefields, the steam would rise from their open chests. The heart would smoke in your hand, hard with blood, still beating. Almost as if," he turned and discovered he was alone. "Pope?" Then Gabriel reluctantly rose and turned off the monitors on his desk and slowly left the room.

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Joe stood over a map of Gabriel's compound with several police chiefs and special operations commanders. "I want units here, here and here. Seal every road that goes near the place. And keep the civilians back. We could heavy resistance."

One man in a grey tweed jacket said, "The city engineer says there's a helipad out back."

Joe looked up at the man behind him. "Then I want choppers." The man nodded and stepped away. "Nobody gets out, got it?"

Joe looked around at the men assembled. "Okay, that's it. We hit them as soon as it gets dark."

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The cab pulled into an alley and all the passengers emerged. Father and the cabbie approached a man-hole cover and lifted it up. "You'll go straight for a mile, then turn east. That's right." Father sighed looking at these women. He love Catherine like a daughter and was beginning to admire this tough red-head, who was risking everything to help Vincent and his son. "The pipes will likely be corroded, so take care you don't get rust in your eyes."

The cabbie handed Diana down the ladder and she disappeared. Father caught Catherine by the arm. "Remember, Catherine, once you get back here, continue down the main Kastan line for three miles. It will meet up with the main tunnels. There will be pipes there so you can send a message."

"I know Father." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I'll bring them home." She lowered herself into the hole and Father and the cabbie replaced the cover.

"Godspeed, my dear."


	15. Chapter 15

When Catherine and Diana left Father and walked down the tunnel towards the steam pipe that would lead them to Gabriel's mansion, they didn't speak much. They turned right as Father had directed and Catherine tapped a short code on the pipe that was there. They continued on. Catherine was thinking. Finally, she spoke.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What?" Diana asked, startled.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Well, that nut-job is after me now, too."

"Yes, but that doesn't require you to traverse these tunnels and battle him. You could go to Joe or Elliot and disappear. Elliot did."

"Yeah, and Joe is organizing an army to invade and capture that bastard."

"Well, I understand Joe's dedication. He is a really good friend and I imagine he feels some guilt in the role he played in starting all of this. But why you? You don't know me or Vincent."

"I know you better than you think." Diana began to describe how she had been pulled into the case by Joe's desperation and then of how she worked. She told how she amassed information on the victims and immersed herself into their lives. She learned how they thought and how they would react and that helped her find justice for them. "I know how much Vincent means to you. He has to be the father of your child. He must be a very unique and special person for Gabriel to want his child so badly. Honestly, you and Vincent have intrigued me more than any other case I've ever worked on. I have to see this one end well."

"They usually don't, do they?" Catherine asked quietly.

"You used to work for the DA. They don't, do they? And the ones that do end well, never end happily."

They walked on in silence. Catherine was beginning to understand this fiery detective a little better. She was a tortured soul, just as she had been until Vincent came into her life.

Diana broke the silence. "Tell me about him."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why does he live in the tunnels?"

"Vincent is different from most people," Catherine sighed. "He was found, abandoned in the trash behind St. Vincent's Hospital as a newborn. A woman who used to live in the tunnels found him and brought him to Father. He is a doctor and saved his life. Because of how he looks, how he is, Vincent cannot live above."

"What about the others?"

"It is a sanctuary, a different sort of society. Some people come to escape the world Above, some are born there. Some live their entire lives Below, some only stay for a while. There are a lot of children that nobody wants who are nurtured and loved. Everyone is accepted, just as they are. Everyone helps each other. Everyone gives what they can."

"It sounds wonderful."

"It is." Catherine continued on down the tunnel.

"If Vincent means so much to you and this is such a wonderful place..."

"Why don't I live there?" Diana nodded and Catherine continued. "It is complicated. Vincent isn't like most men. He thinks that I shouldn't confine myself to his limited world. Until recently, I had family Above. I liked my job, but it had become more difficult recently. Before I was kidnapped, Vincent was very ill and I nearly lost him. When I found out about the baby, I intended to go Below, but..."

"Gabriel."

"Yes. Now, I've been thinking. I've been away for nearly eight months. If no one finds me for another four, legally, I can be declared dead. If we can find the baby, I would love nothing more than to stay Below and make a life with Vincent. I thought he was important to me, but when he was sick, I realized that he is the most important thing in my life. Nothing else mattered. Now, with the baby..." Catherine's voice drifted off and they continued to walk in silence.

After a few minutes, Diana spoke again. "He really saved you, didn't he?"

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked warily.

"I know you, Catherine. I know that you disappeared for ten days almost four years ago. You were Below, weren't you?" Catherine nodded. Diana went on. "I know what you were like before that and how you changed. You are a better person for having known him, right? I think I'm a better person for having known you. That's why I'm doing this."

Catherine reached out and took Diana's hand and squeezed it gently. They smiled at each other and continued their walk.

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Gabriel nearly ran down to the basement. Vincent stood waiting for him near the door to the cage.

"The police are coming."

"Let them come," Vincent replied calmly.

Gabriel seemed agitated. "If they find you, they'll kill you." He pointed at Vincent who remained standing impassively, his arms at his sides. "Or maybe they won't. Maybe they'll just leave the monster in his cage for the rest of his life." He sneered.

"Your words have no more power, Gabriel. You're the only monster here."

"Nothing happens by accident. The woman, the child – that was meant to be. Our destinies are linked. Yours, mine, Julian's."

Suddenly, Vincent struck out at Gabriel through the bars, snarling. The electricity caught his arm as he touched the cage and sent him back against the stone wall. Gabriel had quickly turned away and Vincent did not touch him. They looked at each other a moment and then Gabriel ran back up the stairs. Vincent watched him go, his heart pounding. Something was going to happen.

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Joe was issuing some last-minute orders as he stepped into a police van.

"Tell the commissioner that we'll call with reports every half-hour. Is the chopper in the air?"

"Come on boss, or we'll get this guy without you," Hughs called.

"Okay, let's go."

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"Do you think this is it?" Diana asked. Catherine shown her light into the rusty pipe that was covered with dust and cobwebs.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Okay." Diana boosted herself up and entered the pipe. "Will you be okay here without the flashlight?"

"What do you mean? I'm coming too."

"You can't."

"What!"

"Catherine, if Gabriel or any of his men saw you, they would shoot you on sight. Gabriel has to know Joe is closing in on him. He is holding Vincent and your son. If Gabriel thinks you are alive, he will react instinctively. God knows what he will do." Diana was silent as she let that sink in. If Gabriel knew Catherine was alive, he'd probably kill Vincent and the baby and then her. Diana didn't want to have to say that to Catherine out loud.

"Then it is better that the two of us go." Catherine wasn't getting it. Diana changed tactics.

"If anything happened to you..."

"I can't sit here idly by while you fight my battle!"

"Catherine, you are still weak. And Joe and Father and probably Vincent would all kill me a thousand different ways if anything were to happen to you now. You got me here. Let me go in and get your baby. Let me do this one thing for you."

"What about Vincent?"

"Go wait by that passage we talked about. I'll open the door and send him to you. I promise."

"What about Gabriel?"

"Well, I know what he did to you and Vincent was a lot worse, but I've spent nearly 50 hours looking over my shoulder because of him and that is not a feeling I enjoy. He owes me too. Let me collect his debts."

Catherine ran her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

"Will you be all right without the light?"

Catherine nodded.

"I'll send him to you."

Catherine nodded again. "I'm counting on you, Diana."

"I know."

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Gabriel ran up the stairs and entered the baby's room. His nurse was dozing in the rocking chair in the corner and she sprang up, smoothing her uniform. As her boss approached the bed, she moved to stand just behind him.

Gabriel reached into the crib and smoothed the blanket over the child. "Do you believe in destiny?" he asked the baby. "I know the power of love. There was a girl. She was sixteen, two years older that I was. So beautiful. I loved her so desperately." The nurse looked over at him, afraid of where this rant was going. In the last day, her boss had become even more bizarre and erratic. At his next words, she knew the end had come. "She was the first person I ever killed."

As the nurse slipped out of the room, Gabriel picked up a pillow and kissed it. The baby began to cry.

Down three flights, in the basement, Vincent's head came up. He felt the baby's distress and reached for the bars of the cage again, trying to pull the door open. The electricity coursed through him and pushed him back. He stared at the burns on his palms.

In another part of the basement, Diana kicked in a screen covering the old steam pipe. She emerged into the former furnace room, which was now full of discarded items, cobwebs and dust. She pushed things aside as she moved towards the door. Miraculously, it opened. Remembering the map, she moved down towards where Vincent's escape would be and tried to pull that door open. It wouldn't budge. Vincent would have to fit through the steam pipe. She hurried to find stairs, to find the baby.

Gabriel continued. "Perfection must be cherished, protected." He kissed the pillow again. "I love you, Julian." He moved closer to the baby. "Such beauty, such passion. I had to keep it pure."

Frantic, Vincent went back to the bars of the cage, ignoring the pain in his hands, the pain in his shoulder; only letting the baby's fear and his fear for him enter his mind. He pulled and tugged as sparks flew around him. The guard entered and tried to increase the current, but as he did, Vincent finally succeeded at pulling the door from the hinges. He threw it to the side and roared. The guard raised his gun, but Vincent was quicker and knocked it out of his hands. He snarled, baring his teeth, and the guard looked up, fearful. Vincent struck him in the jaw, unconsciously closing his fist, and the guard fell down, senseless. Vincent left the dungeon and followed his sense of his son.

Vincent encountered only one other guard as he hurried up the stairs and that man was easily pushed to the side and down the stairs. In the nursery, Gabriel was holding the pillow over the baby's head, crooning to him.

"Don't be afraid. No one will ever take you from me. I love you, Julian."

Suddenly, the door burst open and Vincent entered. He quickly saw what was happening and pushed Gabriel away as hard as he could. The villain spun around, fell over a chair and hit a wall. He laid sprawled on the floor. Vincent moved towards him, growling, his arm raised, ready to deliver the final blow.

"Vincent!" a woman's voice called. He stopped and turned. Was it Catherine? No, it was someone else. He froze.

"Vincent," Diana said again, quieter, from the doorway. "The child is crying." Her heart was pounding at the sight of this great beast-man. It all made sense now - the secrecy, the unexplained killings associated with Catherine's cases, Gabriel's desire for this child.

Vincent's rage left him as quickly as it came and he went to the bed and picked up the baby. At his touch, the child immediately stopped crying. Vincent held him to his shoulder and kissed his forehead. He took a deep breath, feeling the baby, calming him.

Diana said softly. "There's not a lot of time." Gabriel remained struggled on the floor, breathing heavily and rubbing his already swelling jaw. "Please just go."

"Diana?" Vincent asked.

She nodded at him. "Under the building. She's waiting."

Vincent looked at Gabriel again with hatred. Diana said again, "Please, go." Vincent gathered his child closer, snarled at Gabriel and left the room.

Gabriel sat up and smiled at Diana, still rubbing his jaw. "Thank-you," he said and began to stand. "Do you know what prison is?" He grunted as he regained his feet. "A place to grow stronger. No court will convict me. Jurors have families too." He straightened his jacket. "And even if they did, you can rule the world from a prison cell." He brushed off his arms and looked up at her. "I rule nations, Diana!" He sighed. "I'll have the child back. In the end, I always win."

Diana took a deep breath. "Not this time, Gabriel." He looked at her, confused. Diana raised a pistol and aimed it at his chest. "This is Catherine Chandler's gun." He looked puzzled, as if he couldn't comprehend anyone threatening him. "She's alive and well and waiting for Vincent and her son. They will raise him, in love. Not you. You failed." She fired one shot into his chest and killed him instantly.

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When Joe and the police arrived, the mansion was empty. Most of the guards and people working for Gabriel had enough warning to leave before the police came. Joe found Diana sitting on the floor of the nursery, holding Catherine's gun loosely in her hand. She was staring curiously at Gabriel's body, slumped on the floor opposite her.

"Bennett! You okay?" Joe ran to her.

Diana looked up at Joe blankly for a moment and then seemed to recognize him. "Joe? Yeah, I'm fine."

"We need medics up here!" Joe called.

"No, he's dead."

"Not him, honey. For you." Joe knelt down next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Joe. I'm fine. I'm just tired." She was limp in his arms, but grateful for the physical comfort.

He bent to her ear so no one else could hear. "The baby?"

She nodded. "He and his father should be meeting his mother about now."

"Okay." They both smiled slowly at each other.

"Let me up, Joe. We've got a lot of work to do here."

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After leading Diana to the tunnels that would take her to Gabriel's mansion, Catherine paced the dirt floor and ran her hands through her hair. This area was uninhabited and rarely used for transportation, so it was danker and dustier and darker than the tunnels she was used to. Finally, tired, for she was still recovering from the baby's birth and her subsequent near-death ordeal, she sat down and leaned against the wall. She tried to stay calm, although her emotions were running riot. Their bond was still tenuous at best, but if Vincent could feel her, she didn't want him worrying over her. He needed to remain focused on the baby.

The baby. Her baby. _Their_ baby. She concentrated on him, remembering her only brief moment with him before he was taken. His eyes had been open, and instead of the typical dusky newborn grey, there were an intense, vivid blue, the color of his father's eyes. He had looked at her deliberately, as if he were memorizing her face, as she was his. It had been as if he were thinking, "So that's what you look like." He had known her; now he could see her too.

Unconsciously, her hands moved to her flattening abdomen. Despite the bump still there, it felt flat and empty. Her hands moved up to her aching breasts. She had been using the pump Mary had found for her and it helped, but she never felt completely relieved. Somehow she knew that only nursing her son would relieve that ache.

She dropped her hands to her sides and began to trace designs in the sandy floor. She concentrated on her memory of her baby's face. He was beautiful – the intense blue eyes, his wispy hair, still wet and plastered to his head, the round cheeks and perfect rosebud mouth. Despite his "regular" facial features, he had reminded her so of Vincent. It was most likely due to his knowing stare – he knew her, just as his father did.

She began to think of names. She had never thought of them before, believing she must discuss that important decision with Vincent. While she was pregnant and whispering to him, she called him "Little One." Now, she let her mind run freely. John. Michael. Peter. Issac. Jacob. Matthew. Andrew. Joseph. David. Mark. Charles. Who was this child? Who would he be?

Catherine had no idea how long she sat there, alternately worrying and dreaming. The sound of soft footsteps brought her out of her reverie and she scrambled to her feet.

The footsteps stopped at the noise she had made. A much desired voice whispered in the darkness. "Who is there?"

She let out a shuddering sigh. "It's me, Vincent."

The footsteps resumed, but firmer and faster and soon Vincent appeared out of the darkness. Catherine took a step towards him, about to throw herself in his arms, but she stopped short. That he had been through a horrible ordeal was plain on his face. He had wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and his hood was up. One arm was under the folds. He stopped a breath away from her and said only one word. "Catherine." So much was conveyed in that one word. Seeing her, speaking her name, seemed to calm him. Now he knew; it was finally over.

Catherine looked up at him, concerned. Her brow wrinkled; she was worried. "Vincent, did you...?"

Vincent tossed his cloak back over his shoulders. Underneath it, he held a small bundle securely in his right arm. It was wrapped in a blue blanket. He reverently held it out towards her.

"Oh, Vincent," she whispered as she took the bundle with shaking hands.

"You were right, Catherine. He is beautiful."

The weight of the bundle felt so right in her arms. She folded the blanket back and revealed his face. It was just as she had remembered, but now his face was less red and his hair was sandy blond and stood up in tufts from his forehead. The baby had been quiet and calm in his father's arms, but now he began to wiggle and squirm in his mother's. He didn't cry, but he began to make little sounds, coos and gurgles. He seemed to be excited.

"Oh, Vincent," she smiled through her tears.

"He knows you." Vincent smiled back at her.

The baby, however, had a one-track mind. He had finally found that which he had searched for days. He was so close to fulfilling that gnawing need that had been growing and growing and was nearly unbearable. He squirmed more determinedly and turned his face towards Catherine and rooted against her breast.

"He's hungry," they said together. Vincent helped Cather down to sit in the tunnel and joined her somewhat heavily, lacking his usual grace. Catherine balanced the baby in one arm and unzipped the hooded sweatshirt she wore. But, when she tried to untie the lacing at the front of her dress, she tangled them in her hurry and unease. She looked down at what appeared to be a hopeless knot while the baby continued to root desperately.

Vincent quieted her fumbling hand and at his touch the baby quieted in his mother's arms. Vincent quickly untied the laces and Catherine bared her breast through the opening. The baby turned and captured her nipple with gusto. At the feeling of the baby suckling and the let-down of her milk, Catherine gasped.

"Are you well?" Vincent asked softly.

"Yes, it is just different from anything I've ever done before." She looked down at her exposed chest and blushed. Even though she and Vincent had shared a chamber for the last few days and he had been instrumental in nursing her, their intimacy had not progressed much past chaste kisses and hugs, although she always fell asleep against his shoulder, his arms holding her securely. "I'm sorry, Vincent," she murmured, knowing this exposure of her person must cause him some discomfort.

Vincent lifted her chin and looked her over, from her beloved face to the baby nursing happily at her breast. "I've never seen you looking more beautiful, Catherine."

She looked up into his consuming blue eyes and read his unspoken meaning. She shivered.

"Are you chilly?" he asked. Then, not waiting for her answer, he shifted closer. He draped his cloak around her and the baby. He held them close and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Catherine."

"I love you too, Vincent."

The baby released her nipple and looked up at his mother, then shifted his gaze to his father. Vincent chuckled and said, "We love you, too, Little One."

Catherine moved the baby up to her shoulder and rubbed his back gently until he burped. Then, she shifted him to her other arm and he latched on to her other breast. Vincent pulled her dress back over her first breast and kissed her head again. She smiled down at the baby nursing in her arms. "Did you ever think this was even possible, Vincent?"

"Never," he said honestly. He leaned his head back against the wall of the tunnel. As she took his hand, he winced and pulled away.

"Are you well, Vincent?" she asked, suddenly concerned for him.

"I will be," he sighed.

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Father knew Catherine and Diana were beyond the pipes and that they would be gone for some time. But, it had been four hours since Catherine had tapped her last message. Pascal had kept the pipes quiet while they waited word of her, the baby and Vincent. Father wanted to pace, but his hip pained him too much. So, he was up and down in his chair in his study, looking at books absently. Finally, in desperation, he sent one of the children for Mouse.

"Didn't do it!" Mouse exclaimed as he entered Father's study.

"No, no, Mouse. I need your help."

"Of course, of course. Need anything? Need help? Ask Mouse. Always ask Mouse." Mouse rolled his eyes and Father ignored it.

"Do you know where Catherine went? To find Vincent?"

"Don't like it there." Mouse's innocent face looked troubled.

"I know Mouse. But, Catherine has been gone for so long. She may need help. You are young and strong and quick. And you know the way. Go check, will you? And send word, please Mouse."

"Okay, good. Okay, fine." Mouse dashed out of Father's chamber and Father sat down heavily in his chair.


	16. Chapter 16

The baby stopped nursing and fell asleep against his mother's breast. Catherine was dozing against Vincent with his head resting on hers. She roused as the baby shifted and the cool air of the tunnel blew against her exposed chest. "Mmm, Vincent, we should get moving. It's an hour's walk to the nearest pipe."

Vincent said nothing and his head seemed heavy against hers. "Vincent?" She shifted, but he didn't move. She laid the baby in her lap and reached up with both hands to Vincent. She held his head in place and scooted over so she could see him. His head lolled against the tunnel wall. "Vincent?" she said again.

Catherine moved again and took off her sweatshirt. She folded it and put it on the tunnel floor. She wrapped the baby more securely in his blanket and laid him on the sweatshirt. The baby stirred, but was so content and full of his mother's milk, he stayed asleep. Catherine knelt in front of Vincent. She said his name and again, there was no response.

She touched his face and pressed her cheek against his lips. He was breathing. She shifted lower and pressed her ear to his chest. There was his heartbeat, steady and strong. She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He was alive. This wasn't a repeat of that horrible time in the cavern.

She loosened his cloak and pushed it back. She opened his vest and looked at his shirt. The injury he had suffered when he and Elliot Burch had been confronted by John Moreno was bleeding. She opened his shirt to examine the wound and paused, mesmerized by the strength and comfort of Vincent's naked chest. She bent and pressed a kiss reverently over his heart, then turned her attention back to his wound. The dressing was soaked and the blood had oozed on to his shirt. She searched her pockets and found a clean handkerchief. She removed the dressing and wiped the blood away. It seemed like the wound had stopped bleeding, but it looked reddened and sore. He hissed through his teeth when she rubbed harder. She glanced up at his face and saw his eyes were still closed. She folded the handkerchief, pressed it over the wound and closed his shirt and vest over it.

She remembered his wincing when she had tried to hold his hands earlier and moved to them. She turned them over and gasped. Both palms and all his fingers were red and blistered and bleeding. They looked like burns. The fur on the back of the left one looked singed. She was out of anything to make bandages and even she knew they needed to be cleaned before they could be dressed. She laid his hands gently in his lap and then leaned up to kiss his forehead. He sighed in his sleep.

"Oh, my love. What did he do to you?"

Catherine eased Vincent down on to the floor of the tunnel and wrapped his cloak around him snugly. She lifted the baby up, put her sweatshirt back on and tucked the baby inside next to her. She sat as close to Vincent as she could. How she wished for a candle. It seemed darker now that Vincent was unconscious. ("Asleep!" she silently corrected herself. "He's asleep.") Never a fan of the dark, she tried to stay calm and weigh her options.

She could stay here, but there were no supplies and she wouldn't last long. She was still weak from her ordeal and Vincent needed medical attention. She thought the baby did too, although he seemed to be sleeping peacefully since she had nursed him.

So, they needed to get back to the main tunnels. She could take the baby, but what about Vincent? Would he be all right if she left him and went to the pipes? Would she find the right way in the dark? Maybe Father would worry and send some to look for them? No, she couldn't count on that, for how long could they passively wait here?

She leaned over Vincent. She began to shake him, roughly, and called his name, loudly. He moaned, but didn't waken. She redoubled her efforts, but all that got her was another moan from Vincent and then the baby woke up. She looked down into his deep blue eyes. "I don't know what to do, Little One," she said. He continued to look up at her. "Well, maybe it will work again," she answered.

She shifted closer to Vincent's head and bent towards his face. She kissed his mouth softly at first, and then, relishing the rare taste of his lips, she kissed him more firmly and deeply. He moaned again under her mouth, but did not awaken.

She signed and looked down at the baby. "I guess I don't have it back, yet." The baby gurgled and waved his arms. "I know, I know. I just don't think I have it in me."

The baby squirmed more vigorously and whimpered a little. "Shh, shh," Catherine crooned and rocked him a little. The baby refused to settle, but did not cry out. Then, she heard it too: footsteps, moving quickly.

She was so disoriented in the dark, that she couldn't tell if they were coming from Gabriel's mansion or the Main Tunnels. She tucked the baby in the crook of Vincent's arm and stood up. She was at a distinct disadvantage with no light and no weapon. But, she stood surely over her man and her baby, ready to defend them against whatever would come.

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After spending most of the night in Gabriel's mansion, Joe was exhausted. Diana looked even worse, but there were some loose threads that they both needed to tie up. He insisted on buying her coffee. She agreed, as long as she could sleep for the next two days without interruption.

They sat across from each other letting the coffee steam between them. Diana sighed. "Why don't you just ask the big question, Joe, before it eats you alive?"

"I don't even know where to begin. I thought we were in this together, then you took off and left me standing there, holding the bag."

"I didn't have a choice, Joe."

"You didn't? Where did you go when you left me at the museum?"

Diana sighed and closed her eyes. "I got into the house."

"How?"

She idly spooned sugar into her cup. She stirred it slowly and took a sip. She set the cup down and folded her hands in her lap. "Do you remember that break-through we had when Catherine's doctor came to you? Do you remember when he said he didn't have permission to tell us everything he knew?"

Joe nodded.

"It's kind of like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know what I can tell you, Joe. It is driving me nuts, but it isn't my decision to make."

Joe pressed his fists into his eyes and groaned. He brought his hands down and looked at her.

"Just ask the question, Joe."

"Is she okay?"

"Yes."

"The baby?"

"With his father."

"Are they with her?"

"I'm not sure. I think so." Diana prayed Vincent had found Catherine and they were safe.

"Who shot Gabriel?"

"I did."

Joe leaned back in his seat and eyed her warily. "Who broke his jaw?"

Diana pressed her lips together, lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"Okay, Bennett." He sat up and took a drink of his coffee. "This is going to take a lot to clean up. His organization is huge and it didn't end with him. Tons of guys got away. There will probably be things we can't fully explain."

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"Maybe, someday..." Joe left the question hanging between them.

She smiled. "Yeah, maybe."

Joe reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a couple of bills on the table and stood up. "Come on. You're dead on your feet. I'll get a couple of uniforms to check out your apartment and keep an eye on you. Call me when you wake up."

Diana stood when he did and at his words, she reached up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Joe," she whispered and left the diner.

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Mouse hurried away from Father's study, but when he reached the end of the pipes, he began to walk more slowly. He did pause to send a message that he was leaving the safety of the pipes. He often went beyond the limits of the Tunnels and usually enjoyed the adventure, but this area scared him. He turned on his headlamp (his own invention) and slowed to a walk as he left the familiar home tunnels.

As he walked he muttered to himself. "Always Mouse. Don't matter if Mouse don't _want_ to. Don't matter if Mouse is _busy_. Need something done. Ask Mouse. _Always_ ask Mouse. _Everyone_ need Mouse. Okay, good. Okay, fine. Mouse go. Mouse _always_ goes. But why here? Don't like this place. Don't like it all. Go for _Father_? No. Mouse go for _Vincent_. And Vincent's Catherine. And baby? Maybe find Vincent's baby? Found it. Needed it. Took it. Not stealing. Taking. Find baby. Vincent happy. Find Catherine. Vincent _real_ happy. But, don't like this place. Don't like it at _all_. But for Vincent?" Mouse sighed. "Okay, good. Okay, fine."

He continued on, silent. Then he heard sounds. He couldn't tell what they were, exactly, but recognized them as something to be wary of. He looked at the beam of light on the wall and realized his headlamp. Quickly, he snapped it off. The sound of the switch echoed down the empty chamber. Mouse cringed. A voice came out of the darkness.

"Who's there?"

It was soft, just above a whisper. It was a woman's voice. Definitely not Vincent. Was it Catherine?

"Who's there?" Mouse answered.

"It's Catherine. Is that Mouse?"

"Vincent's Catherine?" He switched his lamp back on and scurried towards the voice.

"Yes, Mouse!" Catherine hurried down the tunnel as suddenly a light appeared in the darkness. She sped up and ran towards it. Suddenly Mouse appeared out of the darkness. "Oh, Mouse!" She threw herself at him and hugged him tight. "I'm so glad it's you!"

"Course," said Mouse, somewhat flustered at this display of physical affection. "Everyone needs Mouse."

"Come." Catherine disentangled herself from Mouse and began to lead him back. "You need to help me."

"Find Vincent? Find baby?" Mouse asked.

"Yes, yes, they are found. But I need you, Mouse."

Together they hurried the last few feet back to Vincent and the child. Mouse's eyes widened at the sight of the great man laying on the tunnel floor. "Vincent sick?"

"No, he's hurt. And exhausted."

"Oh, Vincent doing healing sleep."

"Yes, I think so. But, I need to get him to Father. Can you help?"

"No problem," Mouse exuded his usual over-confidence. "Easy. Go to nearest pipe. Send message. Good as done."

"Thank-you, Mouse. I didn't want to leave them."

"Can Mouse see?"

"See the baby?"

Mouse nodded and Catherine bent over Vincent and extracted the bundle from the crook of his arm. She lifted the baby tenderly and unfolded the blanket. He was still asleep. Mouse stared down in awe. "Vincent's baby," he breathed.

"Isn't he sweet?" Catherine cooed.

"Looks like Vincent. Pretty like you." Mouse blushed at his admission.

Catherine merely smiled. She knew Mouse had a hero-worship of Vincent and approved, without question, of everything he did. Behind them, Vincent groaned in his sleep. She turned towards him, bent and stroked his brow. "We need to get help, Mouse."

"Go now." Mouse turned and took the light with him.

"Mouse, wait!" Catherine called. He stopped and turned and looked at her. "Do you have an extra light or a candle? It is so dark here."

"Course." Mouse didn't understand Catherine's fear of the dark, often going to dark places alone himself, but he knew how a light could be helpful and quickly extracted a thick candle stub and matches from one of his voluminous pockets. He quickly lit it and found a natural shelf to wedge it into about chest high near Vincent's feet.

"Thank-you, Mouse," Catherine breathed.

"Okay, good. Okay, fine. Go to pipes. Help as good as here. Kay?"

"Okay, Mouse," Catherine whispered, sighing in relief.

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Finally, it was done. The call had gone out and the Tunnel community had responded. Several strong men had come with a stretcher and a push-cart and had gotten Vincent on to them. When they couldn't push him, they carried him over the rough patches. They were so gentle with him, that he only winced and sighed a few times during the entire ordeal.

Several people had offered Catherine assistance, but she insisted on walking. She wouldn't even let anyone carry the baby for her. She had lagged behind the men carrying Vincent and when she arrived in his chamber, Father had just finished dressing his wounds. He was trying to tuck him into the bed, but Vincent was tossing and turning on the pillow.

"How is he, Father?" Catherine asked, hurrying to his side. She pressed one hand to Vincent's forehead and he calmed. She kissed his brow and he quieted completely.

Father smiled to himself, looking instinctively away at the intimacy. He looked back at her as he spoke. "Well, the gun-shot wound is infected. I've cleansed it as best I could and applied a poultice. His hands are horribly burnt. I'm not sure exactly how that happened. I've cleansed and dressed them as well." He nodded at the white mittens that now wrapped Vincent's great hands. "He's dehydrated. I was about to start an IV drip. Mary went to get the supplies." He eagerly eyed the bundle in her arms. "Is that him?"

"Yes." Catherine smiled, looking away from Vincent for the first time. "Here's your grandson." She laid the baby on Vincent's writing table and unwrapped him.

"Oh, he's perfect, isn't he?" Father asked rhetorically.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to count his fingers and his toes yet, but I think so. Wait until he wakes up and you see his eyes. They are Vincent's eyes. He looks at you as if he knows exactly what you're thinking."

Father smiled at the new mother a bit indulgently, knowing what he knew about newborns. The baby stirred then and opened his eyes. "Hello, Little One," Father murmured. Then he gasped because as the baby opened his eyes and blinked a few times, he regarded his grandfather with a knowing look so different from the typical fuzzy stare of a newborn. Father felt like he was looking into Vincent's newborn eyes again.

Catherine smiled as she knew she was just proven right. "He's probably hungry again, poor thing. And I'm certain he needs a clean diaper."

"Some of the women brought in some supplies and Kanin carried in the cradle over there," Father said. "Go ahead and undress him so I can examine him. Then, Mary will be back and you can clean and dress him. He'll definitely be hungry then."

So, Catherine removed the blanket from around the baby. She began unsnapping the one-piece footed sleeper he was wearing. She took off the "onesie" underneath. She left the diaper alone and went to where Father had indicated to find a clean one. He moved closer and placed his stethoscope on the baby's chest. Just then, Mary hurried back in.

"Oh, Father," she exclaimed. "I'm sorry I took so long. I knew we had more IV solution but I had forgotten where I'd put it." She stopped in the doorway. "Is that him?"

"Hmm?" Father asked, taking the stethoscope out of his ears. "Yes. This is Vincent and Catherine's son."

"Oh, let me see." Mary laid down the IV supplies and went over to the table. Catherine joined them. "He's beautiful, Catherine," Mary whispered. "His eyes, he looks just like Vincent."

"I think I see a little of my dad in him, too," Catherine replied, holding the diaper to her chest.

Father continued his examination. "Ten fingers, ten toes, a nice strong regular heart and lungs to match. He looks perfect. Perhaps a bit undernourished, but you'll fix that soon enough, my dear." Mary moved closer and assisted Catherine in diapering and dressing the baby.

"Here, dear, let me hold him for a few minutes. You need to go bathe and change. I'll ask William to have someone send down some food. After you've eaten and we've finished settling Vincent, you three can all lie down and have a nice rest."

"But, I don't want to leave them." Catherine's eyes widened as she clutched the baby to her chest.

"Don't worry, Catherine," Father said. "You'll just be a moment. Remember, you are all safe here."

"Yes, I know," Catherine said, beginning to feel her own fatigue.

"You're tired, dear," Mary added. "You'll sleep much better after a bath and a meal."

"Well, all right." Catherine gave the baby to Mary reluctantly. "But, Mary, he doesn't cry. So if he starts to wiggle or root around, call me. He will be hungry."

Mary cooed at the baby snuggled in a soft knitted tunic and blanket in her arms. "We'll be just fine, won't we, Little One? You'll be fine with Aunt Mary while your mama takes a quick bath."

"Go, Catherine. I may need you when I start Vincent's IV. You do so well at calming him."

Catherine hesitated at the doorway. She turned and asked anxiously, "It is just a healing sleep, right Father? That's what Mouse called it."

"Yes, he's exhausted. He'll be fine. Now that you and the baby are here and safe, he'll be just fine.


	17. Chapter 17

Diana had collapsed on her bed as soon as her apartment was cleared by the police Joe had sent with her and slept for fourteen hours. When she woke, it was night. Her mouth felt fuzzy and she had a headache, but she couldn't sleep anymore. She stripped off her clothes and went to her shower. She stood under the steaming spray and let it wash away the last three days.

Suddenly, she roused and reached for her shampoo. She scrubbed her scalp, then switched to the bar of soap and scrubbed her skin. She rinsed off and turned off the shower. She rubbed her skin hard, drying it. She went to her closet and put on jeans and a sweater. She padded barefoot to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew and looked across her apartment at her workspace. Pictures of Catherine and her friends and family stared back at Diana. Newspaper clippings surrounded the pictures and an old, nearly dead rose-bush sat near her desk. Three green leaves were shining among the dead ones.

Diana had sent Vincent on the right path to the Tunnels, but had he found Catherine? To protect the Tunnels, she had not returned there and had only told Joe what little he needed to know. Had they been reunited? Were they safe?

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The next morning, Joe sat at the head of the conference table in the DA's office. Several folders were spread out on the table in front of him. A blank legal pad and pen lay near his right hand. He took a drink of coffee, good stuff, not the rotgut he had drunk as an ADA. He sighed in pleasure to himself. "It is good to be the boss," he thought. He looked down the table at the men and women assembled there. He took a deep breath and said, "Okay, let's get started, people. Gabriel is dead, but his organization is not. Joanie, what have you got?"

"Preliminary reviews of computers reveal that he had his finger in all sorts of pies," a petite dark-haired woman said. "He was involved in drugs, arms smuggling, prostitution, human trafficking. He made money in construction, medical research, farming, the stock market. He had people in the police department, our office and other government offices. We are still learning how far his reach went."

Joe took a few notes. "Any word on his number two guy?"

"The helicopter was gone when we arrived," Greg Hughes said. "A private jet left Kennedy shortly after 10:00. The filed flight plan stated the destination was Bermuda, but nothing ever came of it. He could be anywhere now."

"Do we even know his name?" Joe asked.

"Pope. Jonathan Pope."

"I suppose he has a list of aliases as long as my arm," Joe commented under his breath.

"We do have several underlings in custody. We are interviewing them today."

"Anybody know anything about this Gabriel? Where he came from? His real name?"

Another woman further down the table spoke up. "Not much yet, sir. But we're just getting started."

"Okay. Let's put out an arrest warrant for this Pope fellow. Let's continue on the interviews of the rats that have escaped the ship as it was sinking. We can sort through charges and plea bargains later on. And keep digging. We'll meet again around 3:00, but if anyone finds anything big before then, let me know." Joe gathered up his notes and his coffee cup and stood. He left the room and went back to his office.

"Hey, Maggie. Any messages?"

"Yes, sir." She handed him a stack of pink notes. "And, Detective Bennett is in your office."

"Thanks," Joe said and hurried inside. "Hey, Bennett!"

She had been staring out the window and turned with a smile at the sound of his voice. "Hi, Joe."

He went to his desk, put down the messages, folders and his coffee and sat down. "Have a seat. How are you feeling?"

"Better. I feel like I slept forever. What's going on?"

"You can probably imagine. Now that the ship is sinking, all the minor players are scrambling over each other to give evidence in exchange for leniency. My office is going nuts. The number two guy is AWOL and we are starting to siphon through all the paperwork. This thing is huge."

Diana leaned forward in her chair. "Where do you want me?"

Joe ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. "I'm getting a lot of questions about that nursery. Where's the baby that was in that crib?"

"I suppose Hughes wants to talk to me."

"You did shoot that bastard. Surely you know what happened to the baby," Joe questioned rhetorically.

"We both know that I can't answer that question."

"Yeah." They both sat, silent a few moments.

Diana mused. "Maybe the baby was gone when I found Gabriel. Maybe the number two guy got him out on the chopper."

"And when we find the number two guy?"

"We cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Okay." Joe sat up. "You go repeat your statement to Greg. Then, come back here. I've got an investigator looking into background on this Gabriel guy. Maybe you can work with her and do your particular brand of magic."

"Sounds good."

"Anything else?" Joe asked, standing up.

"I did stop for tea on the way over."

"Yeah?" Joe raised an eyebrow.

"Got a fortune cookie too." She handed him a slim sheet of paper. He took it and read it slowly, then smiled.

_Family reunited. All is well._

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Vincent slept. He was mostly quiet and peaceful, but he occasionally tossed and turned and growled. This usually occurred when Catherine left the chamber to attend to her or the baby's needs. No one else could quiet him and so she started sending for trays of food and only took sponge baths from a basin in the room. He slept restfully when she was nearby and if he did become restless, she could calm him with a touch or a kiss on his forehead.

Caring for the baby was so effortless. He hardly ever fussed or cried. He nursed easily and happily. He slept quietly in his cradle or in anyone's arms. As word had spread that the baby was back, nearly every member of the community had wanted to see him. But, Father and Catherine had deferred unscheduled visits due to Vincent's health.

Father had taken him to his study the first night they were back and showed off the baby to all who wanted to see him. If the truth be told, everyone just wanted to know if the baby favored Catherine or Vincent. Not a few were disappointed to see he resembled his mother, but all were excited when he opened his eyes and revealed his father's.

One day, nearly forty-eight hours after he had been settled into his bed, Vincent opened his eyes. Catherine was alone in the chamber, rocking and nursing the baby in Vincent's big chair. That was the sight that met him.

"Catherine," he whispered.

She looked up and the baby let go of her breast and began to search for the source of the sound. Catherine jumped up and hurried to the bed. She laid the baby in his cradle and bent over Vincent. She touched his face and looked into his eyes. "I'm here."

"Where are we?"

"Your chamber, Below," she said, soothingly.

"Our son?"

"Safe in his cradle, just over there." She turned her face towards the baby and Vincent followed her gaze. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"How long?"

"Nearly two days. Do you want a drink?" At his nod, she went to the table and poured a glass of water. She brought it to him and lifted his head gently. "Just a little." He sipped and then laid his head back down.

"Thank-you."

Catherine put the glass to the side and sat near him on the bed. She laid her hand over his mittened ones. "Should I call for Father?" He shook his head. "Do you wish to rest?" He shook his head again. "Are you hungry?" He opened his eyes and looked at her. He nodded slowly. She made to stand up, "I'll ask William to send some broth."

"No," he said. He lifted his hand towards her face and looked ruefully at his bandages.

She sat back down and leaned towards him. "What is it, Vincent?"

He licked his dry lips and tried to pull her closer. She smiled as she understood and leaned closer still so that their faces were merely a breath apart. Vincent summoned his strength and moved the last few millimeters and gently kissed her lips. The kiss was soft and chaste, but it lingered and promised many things. When they parted, he sighed and opened his eyes and looked at her. Catherine's eyes were still closed and the most beautiful look covered her face. He smiled and closed his eyes, laying back against the pillow. Next to them, the baby gurgled.

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Six weeks later, Joe waited nervously at the carousel in Central Park. It was dark, near midnight, and he wasn't entirely comfortable hanging out at the scene of his former boss's murder. Diana had sent him there and said he wouldn't regret the meeting. She had better be right.

A small sound pulled his attention to the door. "Who's there?" he called.

"Joe?" a soft feminine voice answered.

"Yeah. Who are you?"

A small figure emerged from the shadows. "Don't you recognize me, Joe?"

"Radcliffe?" He stepped towards her and as she came into the light, he was sure. "Oh, Cathy! It is so good to see you!" He gathered her up into a bear hug.

"Joe." Catherine squeezed him tightly around the neck.

Reluctantly, Joe released her and looked her over. "Where have you been? I haven't looked because I knew you wouldn't want me to, but kiddo! Are you okay?"

"Joe," she said. "I'm fantastic."

"Really? Everything's working out?"

"Yes. I have my baby and I've never been better."

"You're living with him? Vincent?" Catherine smiled and looked down and then nodded. "You're happy there? With him?"

"Joe! I'm wonderful!" She hugged him again. "I asked you to come here to thank you. I don't know what would have happened without all your help."

"Gee, Radcliffe, I didn't do much. Bennett did more than me."

"Yeah, but who got Bennett involved?"

"Okay, okay." Joe squeezed her hand.

"I also want to invite you to something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Where I'm living now, with Vincent, whenever a new baby is born, they have a naming ceremony to welcome him into the community. I want you to come to my son's."

"Really?"

"Yes. Then you could see him and see where I'm staying and then you wouldn't have to worry so much."

"Cathy, would I meet Vincent?"

"You can meet me tonight, Mr. Maxwell." Vincent's voice came from the shadows.

"Jesus!" Joe exclaimed. "He's been here the whole time?"

"He wouldn't let me come alone." Catherine drew Joe closer to the shadow that concealed Vincent. "Come on. Let me introduce you."

Vincent's heart was pounding in his chest, as it always did when he met a new person. He took a deep breath and straightened so his hooded face entered the shaft of light behind him. He slowly extended his hand. "It is a pleasure."

Joe looked down at the furred and clawed hand extended towards him. He looked up at Vincent's face and saw the cleft lip, the flattened nose and the wild mane of hair. He frowned, thinking for a moment, then clasped the hand in front of him. "The pleasure is all mine," he said, firmly shaking Vincent's hand. Next to them, Catherine smiled.

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"It has been said that the child is the meaning of this life. The truth of that has never been more apparent to me than it is on this day, when we celebrate the child, this new life that has been brought into our world."

Father stood in his study with Vincent holding the baby and Catherine beside him. The rest of the Tunnel community spread out and filled the room. Some were holding candles, some were holding simply wrapped gifts. Peter Alcott, Joe Maxwell and Diana Bennett stood near Mary and Pascal. Mouse and Jamie were in the corner. Lou, the taxicab driver, and Mitch, the mustached man, were in the middle of the crowd. There were William, hands folded happily over his belly, Rebecca, Laura, Lena and Michael. Brooke and Kipper and Geoffrey and Samantha and Eric sat on the floor near the front. Father looked over the gathering and smiled. It was much more crowded today than usual naming ceremonies. It was a testament to the love the community held for Vincent and for Catherine.

"We welcome the child with love, that he may be able to love. We welcome the child with gifts, that he may learn generosity. And we welcome the child with a name, upon which, I believe Catherine and Vincent have decided."

Catherine stood on tiptoe and kissed the baby's head. She smiled up at Vincent and nodded. Vincent spoke. "Catherine and I have named our son Jacob Charles Chandler." They both looked at Father.

At Vincent's words, Father felt a tightening in his throat and a tear came to his eye. He looked over at Peter who winked at him and grinned. Everyone began to applaud. Among the noise, Samantha came bursting up, asking her usually eager question. "Is it time for the gifts now, Father?"

Father's sentimental tears turned into laughter as he answered her, "Yes, Samantha. It is time for the gifts!" 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: _It seems we've come to an ending, but I am planning on an epilogue. I hope you've enjoyed reading my re-imagining of Death Shall Have no Dominion as I have enjoyed writing it. Final chapter will be written and up soon!_**


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Here is my epilogue. I'm sorry it took so long in coming, but here it is, in time for Vincent's birthday. I probably should have changed the rating to "M," but it isn't too bad. If you don't want an "M" story, skip the last few paragraphs. Thanks for all the positive feedback! Enjoy! 

One week after the naming ceremony, Catherine and Vincent relaxed among the pillows and blankets in the chamber underneath the concert stage in Central Park while Mozart's Symphony in F, No. 43 played over them. It wasn't private to them, but they did use the music chamber more than the rest of the Tunnel community. If the other members desired to hear a concert, they could easily melt into the crowd. For Vincent, it was a different matter, and so the Tunnel members always made other plans if they knew Vincent wanted to attend a concert in privacy.

This was their first outing since the Naming Ceremony, the first time they had done anything not related to healing and baby rearing since Vincent had stumbled out of Gabriel's clutches. The first days, they both just slept and ate and then slept again. If the baby needed tending, other than feeding, Mary or one of the other women took care of him. The entire community was fascinated with Vincent's baby. The teenaged girls were especially smitten.

Slowly, they both regained their strength. Catherine was completely recovered from the birth and her morphine over-dose. Sometimes, she felt fuzzy-headed and had difficulty with mathematics. But since she rarely had a need of arithmetic Below, it didn't bother her much. Vincent's wounds healed quickly, as he usually did. He said nothing more than, "Electrical burns," when Father asked what had happened to his hands. At the look on his face, Father had said no more and silently re-bandaged them. Catherine had helped him regain his range of motion by slowly bending each finger and then straightening it three times a day when the bandages were changed. Now, Vincent had full range of motion on both hands and the bullet wounds were completely scarred over.

While he was healing, Vincent began having nightmares of his time in the cage. He never said anything to Catherine or to Father, and in fact refused to discuss that time with anyone at all. But one night, after they had been home for about two weeks, she was up with the baby, nursing him in the chair near the bed. Suddenly, he was wrenched out of sleep and jumped out of bed. He was snatching his cloak off the hook by the door when her quiet voice reached him. "You can't keep running away from it, Vincent."

He paused at the door, looking at the back of her head, bent over the baby, and went out anyway. He ran the tunnels for several miles, then slowed to a walk. He found himself at the old entrance to Catherine's apartment building. The blue light that had come down from the elevator shaft was gone; Mouse and some of the others had sealed the entrance when Catherine had been returned to the Tunnels. He sat down heavily, breathing deeply as the images played over in his mind. He had dreamed of the time when Gabriel had played the images of him killing the guards over and over. The grotesque pictures and sounds drove him to a frenzy and he attacked Gabriel, ripping out his heart, then eating it while it still beat, dripping blood in his hand.

Vincent held his hands out in front of him, but they were clean. He had expected to see blood. He looked at his claws, then turned them over and looked at the fur on the backs. He turned them palm up and clenched them into fists. He took a deep breath and then leaned his head back against the tunnel wall. He wished he had ripped out that madman's heart. He wanted to feel his blood drip hot from his hands, his mouth. He wanted to watch the life-force drain from his face. What that man had done to Catherine, to him, to their son, was unforgivable.

And yet, Vincent had to forget. He was grateful for one thing, however. That torture had shown him that he could control his rages. He could think and feel. He had made a conscious choice to close his fist and not to slash with his claws. He hadn't killed anymore men that night. He felt confident that he could continue to protect his loved ones without killing. It was a relief to his very soul.

But, the torture and the evil and the hatred that man had exuded would not leave his mind. He could not stop reliving those horrible hours he was trapped in that cage.

Suddenly, his head came up and he was instantly alert. Footsteps were coming down the passageway. He jumped to his feet, ready to confront what came.

"Vincent?" Catherine's voice filled the passage. "Are you there?" She came around the corner, a lantern lighting her way.

"I'm here," he called. She walked to him and set the lantern down. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He pressed his face into her hair and held her tightly. "How did you find me? I'm not even certain of how I came to be here."

"Thomas saw you go this way." She stepped out of his arms and went over to the new wall. She traced the lines of the bricks with one finger. "It is sad to see it closed off, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I suppose it only makes sense. No one else will be using it and keeping it open will only invite the curious." Vincent said nothing. "Mouse did a good job. You can hardly tell there was a hole here."

"Jamie and some of the others helped him. I asked them to do it after you were brought Below from the hospital."

Catherine nodded. "I miss our balcony, too."

"After some time has passed, we can find another special place."

Catherine went back to Vincent and grasped his waist. "Talk to me, Vincent. What is troubling you? What happened in Gabriel's house?"

He shook his head and pulled away. "No."

"Why?"

"You've been through so much, Catherine. I don't want to cause you anymore pain."

"Seeing you like this hurts me." He sighed and said nothing. "Can you speak to someone else? Father maybe? Or Pascal?"

"No," he said again.

"I won't push you, Vincent. But you need to discuss this. Talking about it can free it from your mind. Then, you'll stop reliving it in your dreams."

Vincent looked at her curiously. "How did...?"

"You were talking in your sleep."

She looked at him solemnly until he broke her gaze and looked away. "We should get back. The baby will want you."

"He is asleep and Father is listening for him." She stepped behind him, near enough to touch, but didn't. "I have bad dreams, too, Vincent."

"Catherine?"

"While you were gone, it was awful. Then you were back and fell unconscious. I had no idea what happened to you. Sometimes not knowing is worse than knowing the truth. Sometimes what I imagine is worse. Or, the not knowing if it's true is worse."

Vincent lowered his head and then turned to face her. "It was every fear I've ever had come true."

He sat down on the floor and pulled her down next to him. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against his breast. "Tell me."

He laid his head against hers. "I went to the roof where I had found you, like Diana's note had said. The helicopter returned and a gunman shot me three times. They were tranquilizing darts. Then everything went dark." He kissed her hair and continued. "When I awoke, I was chained to a wall in a cage. A doctor came and took blood from me. It was just like Father had said – they captured me, put me in a cage and 'studied' me. Gabriel came and tormented me with words. Then, he brought me the baby." Catherine squeezed herself tighter to him. "I cannot describe the feeling of holding him. He knew me, Catherine. He knew me and he had no reason to know me. He was crying when he was brought to me, but as soon as I picked him up, he stopped. He just looked at me and I, I was enchanted with him."

"I know the feeling."

"He is a special child." Vincent kissed her hair again. "I could feel him growing stronger through the night. I didn't feed him. I didn't change him or sing to him or any of the normal things you do with babies. I just held him and looked at him."

"And loved him," Catherine interrupted.

"He had been so ill and all he needed was to be loved. But as he grew stronger, it frightened Gabriel and he took him from me. And, then, the true torture began." Vincent's voice faded into the near darkness.

Catherine stroked the arm that held her, waiting for his words to come. He said nothing, just laid his head on hers and let his arms hold her against his chest. "Vincent?" Catherine asked quietly. He did not respond so she sat up, moved away from him and rose to her knees in front of him. He did not try to stop her and let his arms fall at his sides. His head bowed. She took his face in her hands and lifted it up so he looked at her. "Vincent." She leaned forward and kissed his lips firmly, then pulled back and looked into his eyes. Her face softened at his look and she leaned forward and kissed him again, softer, more intimate. She held his face firmly, afraid he would pull away, knowing they both needed this. So, she was surprised when, as the kiss ended, his arms came back around her, kept her close and kissed her again.

Catherine shifted off of her knees and sat on his lap as the kissing continued. Vincent grew bolder, stroking her lower lip with his tongue, moving to kiss her cheeks, her eyes, the curve of her jaw. He then moved back to her mouth and kissed her deeply. As this last kiss ended, he pulled her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck. "Catherine," he huffed.

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine murmured. They held each other for long minutes as their breathing slowed. "Tell me, now," she said.

Vincent sighed and shifted Catherine more comfortably on his lap. "We played a sort of 'cat and mouse' game. He had me trapped in that cage with cameras trained on me. I had shortly pulled the chains out of the wall, but the bars of the cage were electrified and, whenever I touched them, I was burned."

"Your hands," she whispered.

"Not at first," Vincent said. "I could feel the baby, feel him growing stronger despite our separation. It bothered Gabriel. He kept coming downstairs to me, telling me things. He tossed that ring back to me and told me Diana was dead. I would speak to him through the cameras. I told him that my bond with our son was growing and I think it drove him crazy. But it was true. Our son needed nothing that Gabriel could give him; he only needed to be loved. Then, he came down with two men with guns and had them fire into the cage."

Involuntarily, Catherine gasped and held him tighter.

"He must have told them not to aim at me, but they fired several shots. At first, I thought he wanted me dead because the baby responded so well to me, but that was not the case. It was another form of cruel torture. But, I refused to let him see my fear. When the air cleared, he was looking at me, anxiously, hoping to see some sort of fear or capitulation. I did not. He could kill me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking me. Then, he showed me the film."

"What film?"

"Do you remember when you sent the message through the pipes and I nearly found you?"

"Yes."

"He had filmed me, breaking through the wall, attacking the guards, killing them."

"Oh."

"He showed me that, on a continuous loop, over and over. It was loud and the images filled the basement. No matter where I looked, I had to watch it."

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine murmured and kissed his brow and cheeks and lips. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't entirely bad. I had never seen myself in that state before. I realized that all it was was my feelings, my emotions being expressed without reason or censorship. I was frightened and I struck out blindly, without thought. And after awhile, I realized that I could still feel fear, anger, passion but not let it over-take me. In a way, his torture gave me a gift."

"I always knew that."

Vincent kissed her forehead then tucked her head back into the crook of his neck. "There is more." She nodded into his neck. "Can you hear it?"

"Can you tell me?"

Vincent took a deep breath and nodded. "After awhile, I have no idea how long, the pictures changed. He showed me the baby. He was happy, cooing and kicking his legs, you know how he does? And he was looking into the camera as if he knew I was looking at him. Then Gabriel came back in. He claimed to be showing me mercy. He let the doctor into the cage, saying he needed another blood sample. As the doctor drew my blood, he spoke of you and how you both had known how beautiful the baby was. He said he had let you hold him, which I knew to be a lie. Then, he said that he was sorry about your death, but it was the doctor who had killed you. I admit I became enraged. I knew you were alive, but also knew how close you had come to death. But, then I saw the doctor and I knew he had only acted on Gabriel's orders. He was a weak man."

"What happened?"

"Gabriel ordered me to kill him, to take my revenge, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. So, he had his gunmen shoot him."

"Oh, God. Right in front of you?" Vincent nodded. "I remember him. I always thought he had more sympathy for me than any of the others. When he gave me the injection, he told me he was sorry, but I wouldn't suffer. But knowing I was dying, leaving you and the baby? It was exquisite torture."

Vincent kissed her. "We should go back. You are still weak and my hands are not completely healed."

"No, you should finish it."

"Catherine?"

"I know there is more."

Slowly Vincent nodded. "There is."

"Tell me."

"I could feel tension in the house. Something was happening. Gabriel was uneasy, but somewhat gleeful, excited as well. It was like he had descended into a new level of madness. He told me the police were coming. I didn't care. He thought they would kill me or just leave me in another cage. I didn't care. He couldn't control me anymore, despite keeping me in that cage. Then, he left me. I didn't know what was happening, but I was worried. I began to feel stronger. I hadn't eaten or drank in more than twenty-four hours, but the fear, the strength of the Other began to fill me. I knew we could work together."

"What happened?"

"Suddenly I felt a fear and a struggle coming from the baby. Something was happening. I had to get to him, I had to save him."

"How?" she asked. Vincent turned his palms over in her lap and they both looked at them. "Electrical burns," Catherine said quietly.

"A guard came down and tried to increase the current, but I pulled the door off before he could. He aimed his gun at me, but I knocked it out of his hands and pushed him to the side. I don't think I seriously injured him."

"Vincent."

"I was frantic. The fear coming from the baby turned to frenzy. I ran up to his room. I followed my sense of him and went right to him, just like I was able to do with you. When I entered his room, Gabriel was leaning over the bed, with a pillow over the baby's face."

"Oh, my God." Catherine finally let the tears flow down her cheeks.

"I wanted to kill him. The need for revenge burned in my breast. I snatched him away from the crib and threw him across the room. He fell to the floor and he laid there, staring up at me. There was no fear in his face, just a grim satisfaction. I didn't care. I was about to strike him again when a voice called to me."

"Who was it?"

"The woman, Diana Bennett. She said that the baby was crying." Catherine squeezed his hands gently. "And he was. At her words, all my rage disappeared and I went to the baby. I snarled at that evil man one more time, but I never looked at him again. She told me there was an exit in the basement. I went there directly and took the baby to you."

"Joe's note said Gabriel was dead. It wasn't you?"

"No. I wish it had been. I dream of it."

"It must have been her."

"Yes."

They sat in silence, holding each other, stroking arms or chests or hair and kissing softly every now and then. Catherine began to nod off in his arms. Finally, he spoke. "Catherine?"

"Hm?" she roused.

"Now, we must go back. The baby is hungry. And I think I can sleep now."

They rose and Vincent made to pick up the lantern, but Catherine stayed his hand. "I'll carry it." They began to walk back to the home tunnels. "We must think of a name."

"What?" Vincent asked.

"Father said the naming ceremony should be soon. Typically, the baby is six weeks old. In light of recent circumstances, he thinks we should delay until he is eight weeks. But, we must think of a name."

They walked in silence for several minutes. Vincent spoke. "He has two grandfathers. Should we name him for them?"

"Jacob Charles or Charles Jacob?" Catherine asked with a slight smile.

"Let's ask him" Vincent smiled back.

C&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;VC&amp;V

And Jacob Charles it had been. Vincent's nightmares faded as did Catherine's. They had healed, physically, completely. Vincent had resumed his teaching duties, but did not go on the heavy work details yet. Father did not want him to over-exert himself and both he and Catherine still were nervous when he was not nearby. Catherine discussed beginning a Government class for the older students and volunteered to give legal advice to Tunnel dwellers who needed it. It went without saying that she could not legally represent anyone, but the advice would be helpful.

As time passed, Peter began proceedings to have Catherine declared legally dead. Once that occurred, he could release her assets. She wanted to establish scholarships for the children that wished to attend college or go to a trade school. She also wanted to provide funds for the daily needs of the community. Father was reluctant to accept everything she wanted to give, but since the arrival of his grandson and namesake, he was easier to convince.

Joe and Diana continued to work together to tie up the loose ends of the case. He was reluctant to let any of the ADA's take over, but he did utilize the investigators. The police department had several officers resign and no questions were asked. Jonathan Pope was still at large, but the net was tightening. He was confident the case could be closed within six months, but with Catherine remaining Below and officially still missing Above, presumed dead, he did not feel extreme pressure as he had before Catherine and the baby had been found. Diana was fascinated with the Tunnel world and Joe begrudgingly admired it as well. They were both on their way to becoming helpers. Life was returning to a new normal, Above and Below.

So now, Catherine and Vincent sat in the music chamber, a place they had spent many delightful hours, listening to the Mozart Symphony. Catherine had nursed baby Jacob then handed him to Vincent while she tied up the lacings of her dress. He expertly burped him and rocked him gently, looking into his eyes. Catherine sat back and watched them. Jacob locked his eyes on his father, but then began the slow blinking that so often heralded slumber. Soon, he was asleep and Vincent stroked his forehead. Then, he kissed him, tucked him into the Moses basket and laid him off to one side. Catherine snuggled closer to Vincent and his arms went around her automatically.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Mmm, yes. I never thought to be so happy."

"Who knew this dream would come true?"

"Yes, but," Vincent began.

"What, Vincent?" Catherine asked gently.

Vincent turned and looked over at the sleeping baby. "I wish I could remember."

"Remember what?" Vincent turned to her with a knowing look. She looked down, blushing a little. "That time has still not returned to you?"

"No. I wish I could remember, but I cannot."

"In a way, I'm glad you cannot remember."

"Why?"

"I was desperate. I thought you were dead. It was beautiful, but it began in desperation and fear. I'm glad you don't remember that."

"I want to remember something!"

"Oh, Vincent," she murmured. "You've tried so hard."

"Everything else has come back to me. It has been nearly a year. Father and Peter doubt that time will ever return to me."

"Do you want me to tell you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Or..." She stopped, unsure.

"Or?" he asked.

"I could show you."

"Catherine," he breathed.

She sat up and began to unfasten his vest. When it fell open, she began to untie the lacings of his shirt. He captured her hands. "Catherine," he said again.

"We've come so far, Vincent," she whispered. "You deserve love. You deserve a happy life. We both do. Let us live it, fully, completely."

She leaned forward and kissed his mouth. He tentatively returned the kiss. Catherine moved her hands from his face, down his neck to his chest, revealed by his open shirt. She stroked the hair on his chest and kissed him again. His hands came up and rested above her hips, holding her loosely. Catherine slipped her hands lower, inside his shirt.

"Catherine," he gasped.

"Yes?" she asked. She sat back, but kept her hands on him. "Shall I stop?"

He shook his head.

"Slower?"

He shook his head again, staring into her eyes. She moved her hands to the front of her dress and untied the lacings again. She slid neck open wider and pushed the dress off her shoulders. It fell to her waist. Vincent had seen glimpses of her breasts when she nursed Jacob. But never had he seen her, naked to the waist, looking at him with such passion. He swallowed and allowed his hands to rise. He stopped just below her breasts and watched as a drop of milk accumulated on the tip of one nipple. He caught it with his finger and tasted it. Then he leaned forward and licked her nipple clean.

Catherine shuddered. She remembered when she had cut her hand pruning a rose bush and he had kissed the blood from her palm. How much more erotic was it to have him lap the milk from her breast? She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again, passionately. She sucked on his lower lip and then delved into the cleft of his upper with her tongue. Vincent moaned and pulled her closer, relishing the taste of her mouth and the feel of her naked flesh against his.

Catherine's hands slipped off his shoulders and drifted down to his waist. She pulled his shirt tails out of his trousers and ran her hands up and down his naked back. "Catherine," Vincent growled.

She sat back and looked deep into his eyes. Her breathing was faster than usual. She licked her lower lip and kissed him again. She moved her hands to his intricate belt and began to unfasten it. She let it fall to the side and opened his trousers, exposing his arousal. She took him in her hand and squeezed him gently as he hissed in surprise and closed his eyes. Catherine moved then, shifting her skirt and sitting astride his lap. She positioned him and then whispered his name.

Vincent opened hooded eyes and looked at her. "It was like this," she said quietly and then pressed down, taking him deep inside her. At the sensation, Vincent's eyes rolled shut. He clutched her thighs in his hands, thrust upwards twice and came inside of her. She shivered at the feeling, then laid on his chest.

After a moment, his hands released her thighs and came up to caress her hair and her back. "Catherine?"

"Hmm?" she asked, dreamily.

"Like that?"

"Yes."

"That was nice."

She smiled at his choice of words. "Mm-hm." She rubbed her face into his neck and then her breasts into his chest.

"Was that all?"

Catherine pressed a kiss to the base of his neck. "You were exhausted. You sort of collapsed again, but you weren't unconscious. I held you until Father came."

"He won't be coming now, will he?" His hands moved smoothly over her back, up into her hair and back down to her hips.

Catherine smiled into his neck and kissed him there again. "No."

Vincent's hands moved back up to her head and cupped her face, pulling her back so he could see her. He leaned up and kissed her lips, gently at first and then more passionately, opening her mouth and tasting her. Catherine moaned quietly and clutched him to her. He began to shift his hips and she squeezed her thighs tighter around him.

Suddenly, he flipped her over without dislodging himself and ground his hips into hers. He pulled away from her mouth and spread frantic kisses over her face – her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose.

"Catherine," he breathed. "I can feel you."

She giggled a little and raised her hips up into his. "I feel you too, Vincent."

"No." He pulled back and pressed a hand over his heart. "I feel you here. I feel the feelings you feel when you do, almost as if we're one. I feel your heart, beating next to mine, next to Jacob's."

"Vincent, has the Bond returned?" Her eyes began to glitter with happy tears.

"I believe so." He bent and kissed the tears from her cheeks.

"Oh, Vincent!" She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly. She laid back on the pillows and smiled up at him. Then, she leaned up and kissed his lips. Pulling back, her face had changed. "Vincent, what is our Bond telling you?"

He looked down into her eyes and smiled knowingly. He pressed his hips to hers again and kissed her passionately.

The music from the orchestra above swelled and rose around them and in his basket, Jacob, the tangible proof of the never-ending love of Vincent and Catherine, slept on peacefully.


End file.
